CHARLES  B.  KEEN 


T  H.  E 


TWILIGHT    DREAM, 


foments  ai  Solitude; 


X.  CHAPMAN  FREEMAN. 


•  llmv  strangely  gleams  through  the  gigantic  trees, 
The  red  light  of  the  forge!     Wild,  beckoning  shadows 
?>talk  through  the  forest,  ever  and  anon 

Rising  and  bending  with  the  Wickering  flame. 
Then  flitting  into  darkness!     So  within  me 
.Strange  hopes  and  fears  do  beckon  to  each  other, 
As  the  light  does  the  shadow." 

•  I  must  have  been  asleep!  ay,  sound  asleep? 
And  it  was  all  a  dream." 

LONGFELLOW. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

LINDSAY    &    B  L  A  K  I  S  T  O  N  . 
1353. 


HENRY    W.    LONGFELLOW, 


GENIUS    HAS   ENRICHED    OUR    LITERATURE. 

AND    IS   ADMIRED 

WHEREVER  THAT  LITERATURE  IS  KX.iWX. 

THIS    HCMBLE    VOLUME 

IS, 

HV  PERMISSION, 

GRATEFULLY  AND  RESPECTFULLY 
INSCRIBED. 


PREFACE. 

Ix  palliation  of  the  defects  of  "  The  Twilight  Dream," 
the  Author  would  state  that  it  was  composed  at  a  very 
early  age,  and  during  a  short  space  of  time. 

Had  he  been  permitted,  by  other  duties,  to  indulge  his 
Muse  in  the  quiet  sanctum  of  his  own  closet,  the  lan 
guage  and  ideas  of  the  Poem  might  have  been  more 
entertaining  to  its  readers ;  as  it  is,  he  claims  some  leni 
ency  for  its  disconnection  and  crudeness,  from  the  circum 
stances  of  its  birth.  These,  in  the  language  of  Byron, 
"  though  they  cannot  excite  the  voice  of  praise,  may  at 
least  arrest  the  arm  of  censure." 

The  collection  of  shorter  poems  now  published  under 
the  title  of  "  Moments  of  Solitude,"  were,  for  the  most 
part,  written  at  a  still  earlier  date,  and  have  received 
little  or  no  modification.  Many  have  already  appeared 
(under  a  nom-de-plume,)  in  the  columns  of  various 
periodicals;  but  will  not,  their  parent  hopes,  be  more 
harshly  judged  now  that  they  have  been  publicly  ac 
knowledged. 

Should  the  work  tend  to  relieve  the  dull  monotony 
of  an  hour,  or  afford  a  slight  gratification  in  its  oc 
casional  review,  the  ends  of  the  Author  will  be  fully 
accomplished,  and  his  ambition  liberally  rewarded. 


VI  PREFACE. 

"To  the  dictates  of  young  ambition  may  be  ascribed 
many  actions  more  criminal  and  equally  absurd,"  says 
Lord  Byron  ;  yet,  should  defeat  await  this  first  literary 
onset,  he  has  only  to  look  to  the  future  as  a  more  suc 
cessful  battle-ground,  and  seek  to  gather  from  his  PRE 
SENT  overthrow,  that  wherewith  to  achieve  more  worthy 
things. 


CONTENTS. 


Page. 
THE    TWILIGHT    DEE  AM. 

Canto  I.       Tart  1 9 

Part  II 18 

Canto  II 29 

Canto  III.  Part  1 51 

Part  II 59 

MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

Sad  Moments,       . 71 

Lines  to  —   -  .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .75- 

Love's  Serenade,  ......  77 

Song  of  the  Orphan  Spirit, 79- 

Where  I  would  die,       ......  82 

Thou  art  Another's, 85 

A  Mother's  Love, 88- 

Stanzas,   .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .90 

We  Sm^e  and  Gaze  at  Woman's  Charms,      .         .  92 

Though  Forever  we  have  Parted,       ...  9S 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Stanzas,        ........  95 

How  Love  we  to  gaze  011  the  Scenes  of  our  Youtb,  .       96 

I  Sigh,  and  Think  of  Thee,  Lady,          ...  98 

The  Sun  of  Joy  upon  thy  Brow.        .         .         .  .100 

Hail  Beautiful  Spring, 103 

Music,  a  Sonnet,       .         .         .         .         .         .  .105 

Sonnet  to , 100 

Past  Memories,         .         .         .         .         .         .  .107 

Wherefore  call'st  thou  Memory  Fond,    .         .         .  109 

I  Love  Thee,  0  I  Love  Thee, Ill 

Impromptu  Lines  to  a  Friend,       .         .         .         .  113 

When  Music  Floats  through  Marbled  Halls,       .  .114 

Sweet  Maid  of  Lochnare,       .         .         .         .         .  116 

Lines  to ,            .         .         .         .         .         .  .118 

It  is  Past, 120 

Why  wake  the  Lyre  to  sing  thy  Charms  ?.         .  .     123 

Thy  thin  lip  trembled, 124 

Poor  heart  be  still,  .         .         .         .         .         .  .125 

Fill  up,  we'll  drown  at  least  to-night,    .         .         .  126 

Life  and  the  Rose 127 

And  am  I  then  forgotten,       .         .         .         .         .  129 

Love,  Flope,  and  Fear, 131 

What  are  Life's  Joys,    .         .         .         .         .         .  133 

Check  not,  check  not  that  pearly  tear,       .         .  .     134 

Sunset, 135 

Extracts  from  a  Poem,  entitled  Spirit  of  Love,  .     137 


fire  ^toiUIt    )n;un. 


CANTO  I. 

"A  being  of  sudden  smiles  and  tears, 
Passionate  visions,  quick  light  and  shade." 

"  'Twill  fade,  the  radiant  dream! — and  will  she  not 
Wake  with  more  painful  yearning  at  her  heart  ?'' 

HEM.YNS. 

SWEET  is  the  hour!  when,  o'er  the  swelling  sea, 
The  moon  floats  peerless  in  her  majesty  ; 
When  heaven  seems  nestling  on  the  breast  of  earth, 
Kissing  the  waters  in  their  solemn  mirth. 
Sweet  is  the  hour !  when  stars  together  meet, 
Beaming  like  angels  from  their  pure  retreat ; 
Sinking  like  shadows  from  their  azure  height, — 
Sinking  to  rise  with  still  more  welcome  light. 
Sweet  is  the  hour  !  yet,  'neath  yon  dimpling  sky, 
How  many  a  heart  now  throbs  with  agony! 


10  THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

How  many  weep,  like  spirits  of  the  past, 
O'er  the  still  moment  they  could  wish  their  lust ; 
Fading  in  rayless  misery  alone — 
Their  only  comforter — the  heart's  low  groan ! 
How  many  wander,  wild  and  joy-born  things, 
0  purple  Twilight,  'neath  thy  soft'ning  wings, 
Coming,  like  sea  gods  to  some  lonely  bower, 
To  share  the  fondness  of  thy  placid  hour  ! 
How  many  now  beneath  thy  waning  eye. 
Breathe  forth  love's  sweet  and  gently  echoed  sigh  ; 
While  hope,  like  some  dear  peri-guard,  awakes, 
To  ease  the  woe-pressed  spirit  ere  it  breaks ! 
How  many  a  lip  upon  its  rubied  breast. 
Receives  the  kiss  which  makes  the  bosom  blest  I 
How  many  a  heart  is  quivering  to  the  tone 
Of  that  dear  voice — 'twould  yield  up  worlds  to  own  ! 
Yes  !  from  the  Day-God's  cold  and  formless  light, 
Hearts  turn  for  sympathy  to  thee,  0  Night ! 
When  the  deep  heavings  of  the  world  are  o'er, 
And  her  harsh  thunders,  sleeping,  come  no  more, 
Ah,  how  we  fly,  like  Freedom's  bird  to  thce, 
Thou  peerless  Night,  sweet  shrine  of  sympathy  ! 


THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM.  11 

In  such  an  hour,  when  sylvan  shadows  steal, 

Glimmering  feebly  through  the  crimsoned  leave?. 

Deep,  dark  and  beautiful,  the  stars  reveal 

A  sleeping  maiden,  round  "whom  fancy  weaves 

Her  golden  web  of  bliss.     As  her  wrought  soul 

o  c_/ 

Revels  amid  the  azure  of  its  dreams, 
Bright,  aerial  vi?ions  o'er  it  softly  roll, 

Lighting,  her  bosom  with  their  bashful  beams. 
By  the  broad  borders  of  a  flashing  sea, 

Peeping  in  timid  modesty  alone, 
Her  eye  discerns,  wrapt  in  obscurity, 

Marking  two  graves,  one  small,  white,  mould'ring 

stone ; 
Above  whose  moss-grown  form,  an  aged  tar 

Moves  to  arid  fro  upon  his  gnarled  staff', 
In  sadness  gazing  on  some  gleaming  star, 

Or  list'ning  to  the  breakers'  mocking  laugh. 
Anon,  his  eye  meets  hers,  and  its  wild  glare, 

Like  the  last  burstings  of  a  flame,  grows  dull  and 

deep ; 
Then  turns  to  gaze  upon  the  shapeless  air — 

Then  breathes  a  sigh  :  and  madly  strives  to  weep. 


12  THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

But  the  tear  froze  upon  his  swollen  cheek, 

And  the  lip  quivered,  as  the  ghostly  word 
Came  creeping  forth,  like  one  who  strives  to  speak — 

But  shrinks  as  his  own  hollow  voice  is  heard. 
From  out  the  murmuring  sound  her  fancy  wrought, 

Stirred  by  the  sweetness  of  waning  light, 
A  broken  tale  of  anguish,  sorrow-fraught, 

Of  early  love  crushed  in  an  early  blight. 
%  %.  $••  *  >i<  =i= 

We  are  all  heirlings  of  a  changeful  state, — 
A  state  of  joys  and  griefs,  of  hopes  and  fears; 

The  lightest  hearts  may  meet  the  darkest  fate, 
And  morning  laughter  change  to  evening  tears. 

Azaria  was  an  only  child ;  yet  she 

Had  known  but  sorrow  from  her  infancy. 

Her  sire  her  tyrant,  whom  she  loved  too  well, 

Her  heart  a  stranger  to  Anteros'  spell, 

She  oft  had  worshipped  one  whom,  hour  by  hour, 

In  dreams  watched  o'er  her  with  a  sybil's  power ; 

Of  one  whose  bosom,  like  hers,  fondly  pined 

Some  gentle  sharer  in  her  hopes  to  find ; 


THE    TWILIGHT   DREAM.  1 

With  heart  of  tenderness,  with  soul  of  fire, 
And  breast  a  stranger  to  each  ill  desire. 
Some  being  like  her  own — as  pure — as  warm — 
Life's  joys  to  brighten — to  illume  its  storm  : 
Who  would  not  chide  the  bosom's  lonely  sigh, 
Or  frown  upon  the  tear  that  dimmed  the  eye, 
When,  Time,  unfeeling,  winged  the  parting  hour, 
And  Absence  rose  to  dull  affection's  power. 
And  thus  she  lived,  amid  her  kindred  strange, 
With  heart  that  ached,  yet  dared  not  hope  for  change 
With  eager  passions  kindling  in  her  breast, 
Which  want  of  sympathy  had  half  reprcst ; 
But,  like  some  smothered  flame,  the  embers  lay, 
Eating  life's  best  and  purest  thoughts  away ; 
And  thus  she  lived,  as  all  termed,  gay, 

A  light  on  earth  which  seemed  divine ; 
Nor  dreamed  her  heart  consuming  lay, 

A  sacrifice  at  Sorrow's  shrine  ! 
And  thus  apart  she  breathed  and  moved, 

Amid  the  wild,  and  gay,  and  young ; 
By  hateful  sycophants  beloved, — 

If  love  from  selfish  hearts  is  wrung! 

o* 


li  THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

But  once,  \vhen  the  rays  of  the  sparkling  sky 
Peeped  glimmering  down  through  many  an  eye, 
Floating  in  joy  on  the  wings  of  the  night, 
Flooding  the  groves  in  their  silvery  light, 
From  the  radiant  blaze  of  the  dazzling  hall, 
Where  Fashion  binds  the  heart  in  her  thrall, 
She  glided  away,  like  a  spirit  on  earth, 
Of  mortal  form,  but  of  heavenly  birth, 
To  dream  in  that  tranquil  solitude, 
Away  from  the  noise  of  the  gay  and  rude, 
Of  a  deep,  dark  eye,  whose  earnest  beam 

Had  lit,  in  her  warm  impassioned  heart, 
The  yearning  hopes  of  her  early  dream, — 

Those  perishing  hopes — but  whence  that  start ! 
Her  eye  flashed  brightly  as  its  glance  met  his, 
Which  seemed  to  tell  of  some  awakened  bliss, 
Both,  both  had  fondly  sighed  for  o'er  and  o'er — 
But  never  known  its  rapture-thrill  before! 
And  neither  spake,  yet,  in  that  silent  look, 

Each  read  the  burden  of  the  other's  soul ; 
Till  from  it,  lightning-like,  their  beings  took 

Ages  of  joy  that  o'er  them  seemed  to  roll. 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  15 


And  henceforth  they  were  one!  their  hearts  grew  light, 
With  the  sweet  gladness  of  their  own  communing ; 

The  Past  was  darkness,  but  the  Future  bright, 
Beneath  the  passion  in  their  souls  consuming! 


For  both  were  young  and  fair;  yet  both  had  known 

A  long  and  weary  life  of  grief  and  tears; 
Left-  to  commune  alone,  their  hearts  had  grown 

In  thoughts  arid  feelings  far  beyond  their  years. 
Ay  !  they  had  yearned  for  sympathy  !  for  one 

O'er  whom  to  pour  their  passion's  eager  flood ; 
But  the  cold  world,  whilom,  had  offered  none 

To  cool  the  ardor  kindling  in  their  blood. 
And  they  had  learned,  like  him  whose  raptured  soul 

Would  find  its  vision'd  dream-land  upon  earth, 
To  bear  the  pang,  the  aching  heart  control — 

The  bitter  pang  of  disappointment's  birth  ! 
They  learned  to  check  their  visionary  dreams, 

To  hide  their  deep  thoughts  in  their  own  dark 

breast ; 
Whence  smiling  hope  withdrew  her  golden  beams, 

Leaving  them  troubled  with  a  strange  unrest. 


1C  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

And  thus  it  was  that  fatal  hour  they  met, 

As  if  some  spirit  in  the  ardent  soul 
Awoke  a  thrill,  they  could  not  all  forget, 

And  breathed  a  gladness  they  could  ill  control. 
They  scorned  the  dull  and  stagnant  mass  around, 

Yet  lived,  like  others,  'mid  its  hateful  blaze; 
For,  though  no  charms  within  its  noise  they  found, 

They  dared  not  brave  its  scowling,  Argus-gaze. 
So  each  had  made  them  friends  of  their  own  dreams, 

Dim  creatures  of  the  fancy  and  the  brain, 
Whose  forms  at  eve  they  worshipped,  when  the  beams 

Of  the  sweet  moon  awoke  their  birth  again. 
And  when  the  hum  of  the  gay  throng  had  ceased, 

And  stillness,  like  soft  music,  weavcd  its  spell, 
Their  souls  would  revel,  from  deceit  released, 

Amid  the  visions  which  they  loved  so  well ! 
Aye  !  they  would  loose  wild  fancy's  secret  wing, 

And  soar  to  regions  of  intense  delight, 
Where  love  was  welcomed  by  unending  spring, 

And  kindred  spirits  woo'd  the  blissful  night. 

And  thus  it  was  they  met !  and,  like  two  springs 
Of  feeling,  flowing  towards  one  common  stream, 


TIIK    TWILIGHT    DREAM.  1  < 

Their  hearts  together  grew,  like  mutual  things, — 

Till  Time  sped  onward  like  a  fleeting  dream. 
Their  beings  flowed  as  into  a  new  life, 

A  kindling  state  of  an  unearthly  bliss  ; 
A  Paradise,  with  blushing  pleasures  rife — 

The  past  was  agony  compared  to  this  ! 
Their  souls  were  blended  in  one  tide  of  thought, 

One  hope,  one  burning  wish,  one  deep,  wild  prayer, 
That  life  might  yield,  'mid  all  its  anguish,  nought 

To  cloud  the  one  each  loved  so  well,  with  care. 
And  they  would  steal,  at  Twilight's  pensive  hour, 

From  the  chill  murmurs  of  the  world  away, 
To  yield  their  senses  to  its  gentle  power, 

Or  blend  their  voices  in  some  thrilling  lay. 
They  recked  not  of  the  careless  mirth,  the  gay 

In  their  delusive  fancies,  mis-term  joy  ; 
That  false  excitement  growing,  day  by  day, 

Until  the  sick  heart  sinks  beneath  its  cloy  ! 
Their  purer  spirits,  with  a  cold  disgust, 

Turned  from  the  waters  of  its  base  deceit ; 
Eyeing  their  brightness  with  a  strange  distrust, 

They  deeply  scorned — and  yet  half  feared  to  meet. 


18  THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM. 


CANTO   I. 

PART    II. 

"  And  oh,  how  much  I  love  him,  ivl.nt  can  tell? 
Xot  words,  not  tears — heaven  only  knows  how  much.'' 
PHILIP  Vox  AIITEVELDT. 

OF  those  whose  hearts  in  kindred  grow, 

Alvin  the  joy  had  never  known  ; 
He  had  no  tear  for  other's  woe, 

And  asked  no  solace  for  his  own. 
'Twas  night  !     He  paced  with  hurried  stride 

The  marbled  pathway  of  his  room, — 
Upon  his  lip  a  sneer  of  pride, 

And  o'er  his  brow  a  shade  of  gloom. 
A  curse  was  quivering  on  his  tongue, 

Which  spake  of  something  dark  and  ill, 
While,  round  his  ghastly  cheek,  there  hung 

Huge  drops  of  dew,  as  cold,  and  chill, 
And  dark,  as  was  his  withered  heart 
Beneath  its  own  convulsive  start  ! 


THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM.  19 

With  eager  grasp  lie  seized  the  bell, 

Which  slept  upon  the  tablet  near, 
And  shook  it  with  an  ire  as  fell, 

As  though  he  meant  the  dead  should  hear. 
"  Ilernando  !  haste  thee,  hound  !  what  fear  ? 
Azaria,  daughter,  send  her  here. 
Tell  her,  her  sire  would  speak  of  what 
Must  either  make  or  mar  her  lot ; 
To  bend  her  soul  and  curb  her  will, 
For  what  will  make  her  bosom  thrill 
With  exultation,  wild  and  glad, — 
Or  disappointment  dark  and  sad  1" 


Lord  Alvin  ceased!  the  curling  smile 
That  dyed  his  brow  and  cheek  the  while, 
Slow  faded  to  the  paler  hue 
Excitement  could  not  all  subdue  ; 
And  still  with  measured  tramp  he  strode, 
And  through  his  bounding  veins  still  flowed, 
Like  some  dim  shadow,  light  with  life, 
The  tide  of  fierce  contending  strife. 


20  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

Azaria,  with  a  trembling  pulse,  and  breast 

Which  moved  like  some  calm  billow's  gentle  swell, 
Whose  tirnid  hearings  would  not  be  represt, 

Her  sire  obeyed  !  she  struggled  to  repel 
The  chilling  fears  which  like  a  gloomy  pall, 

Upon  her  sad,  foreboding  spirit  crept ; 
As  slowly,  at  her  fierce  Lord's  sudden  call, 

And  softly  to  his  dreaded  side  she  stept. 
She  knew  not  why,  but  through  her  quivering  soul 

There  shot  an  agonizing  pang,  as  though 
She  pierced  the  future,  and  upon  its  scroll 

Bead  the  dark  outline  of  some  horrid  woe, 
Some  ghastly  vision,  in  whose  shadowy  train 

Her  life  was  darkly  pictured  !  as  the  mind 
Is  often  preyed  on  by  some  fancied  pain, 

Whose  cause  in  vain  we  madly  seek  to  find  ! 

Lord  Alvin's  step  was  fierce  and  quick, 
His  husky  voice  was  low  and  thick, 
Yet  seemed  his  soulless  glance  to  melt, 
When  gazing  on  the  form  which  knelt 
In  tearless  agony  of  grief ! 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  21 

lie  half  repressed  the  liquid  fire 
Which  filled  his  soul  with  one  desire, 

And,  for  a  moment,  strange  as  brief, 
A  softness  o'er  his  being  pass'd, 

A  sudden  kindness,  like  a  flash 
Of  glory — all  too  bright  to  last ! 
Stern  passion  soon  resumed  the  throne, 
Whence,  for  an  instant,  she  had  flown  ; 

And  with  a  quick,  contemptuous  dash, 
He  rudely  brushed  the  starting  tear, 
Unknown  for  many  a  changing  year  ; 
Once  more  his  ponderous  brow  o'ercast, 
Resumed  the  cold  repulsive  hue 
Contending  passions  o'er  it  threw, 
And  waving  off  the  softening  spell 

Which  recollection  round  him  weaved, — 
"  Azaria,  rise,  and  heed  me  well, 

From  all  thy  doubts  and  fears  relieved. 
I  mean  thee  well,  girl  !  thou  shalt  be 

The  queen  of  all  that  round  thee  shine  ; 
And  none  shall  live  a  life  like  thee, 

And  none  know  bliss  to  equal  thine  ! 
3 


22  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Ay  !  thou  slialt  dwell  an  Angel- Queen, 

\Yithin  thine  Eden's  glowing  bowers, 
'Neath  costly  domes  of  glittering  sheen,— 

With  love  to  speed  the  parting  hours. 
Nay,  heed  me,  girl !  thou  shalt  have  more 

Than  Gods  could  dream,  or  Angels  hope  ! 
All  that  thy  heart  can  most  adore, 

All  that  Golconda's  wealth  can  ope. 
Rich  founts  their  sapphired  waters  sweet, 

Shall  softly  murmur  wild  and  free, 
Where  scented  zephyrs  gladly  meet, 

To  join  their  gurgling  melody  ; 
And,  blushing  o'er  their  wild  arcades, 

Shall  clustering  vines  and  whispering  trees 
Invite  thee  to  their  cooling  shades, 

And  fan  thee  with  their  soothing  breeze  !' 


"  How,  how,  my  lord  !  what  means  this  tale 

Imagination  paints  so  bright  ? 
Which  from  the  future  rends  the  veil, 

And  leaves  its  mist-like  form  so  light  ?" 


THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM.  23 

Azaria's  voice  was  low  and  weak, 

And  trembled  on  her  failing  tongue, 
As  if  she  must,  yet  feared  to  speak, 

Though  every  rending  nerve  it  wrung. 
Too  well  she  felt  some  dark  intent 

Beneath  the  glowing  words  lay  clad, 
Some  deed  to  which  her  fancy  lent 

A  blackness,  which  her  soul  forbade. 
Some  fiend  his  burning  brain  possest, 

Azaria  dared  not  meet  its  gaze, 
But  shrunk  in  female  terror, — lest 

Her  own  should  wither  'neath  its  blaze  ! 


And  once  again  his  hollow  voice 

Awoke  its  deep  sepulchral  tone, 
To  bid  Azaria's  heart  rejoice, 

And  share  the  tumult  of  his  own. 
"  Rich  halls  their  dazzling  light  shall  show 

Of  thousand  iris  tints,  and  gems 
Of  rarest  beauty  round  thee  glow, 

And  sparkle  in  thy  diadems  ' 


24  THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Celestial  music,  like  soft  sighs, 

Shall  float  on  hidden  wings,  and  breathe 

Its  strains  around,  above,  beneath, 
Till  time  on  eagle  pinions  hies, 
And  earth  reveals  a  paradise  ! 
Ay  !  thou  shalt  vred  with  one  whose  name 

Becomes  thy  parent's  state  and  thine; 
Which  towering  stands,  where  noblest  fame 

And  wealth  their  proudest  chaplets  twine. 
Thou'lt  Stand  alone,  like  some  bright  star, 

Surrounded  by  earth's  smaller  suns, 
Who'll  humbly  worship  from  afar, 
And  pine  in  hope  one  glance  to  meet, 
Shall  bring  them  kneeling  at  thy  feet. 
Yes  !  thou  wilt  be  the  centre  round 

The  Avhom  they  all  must  live  and  move, — 
The  link  by  which  their  hearts  are  bound, — 

The  being  whom  th:,-y  all  will  love  ! 
Thine  own  must  soothe  and  share  the  life 

Of  Ablou  Ghan,  whose  haughty  power 
Shall  shield  thy  heart  from  every  strife, 

And  guard  thy  being  from  this  hour. 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  25 

Away  !  no  more  !  what  I  have  said 
Shall  be, — if  truth  in  Olotho  dwell ; 

To-morrow's  sun  shall  see  thee  wed 

With  one  who  loves  thee,  oh  !  too  well !" 

He  ceased  !  but  heeded  not  the  form 

Which  like  some  marble  statue  dwelt, 
With  cheeks  alternate  flushed  and  warm, 

Then  white  as  the  floor  on  which  she  knelt, 
As  though  the  last  slow  tide  of  life 
Had  yielded  to  its  inward  strife, 
And  ghastly  Death  his  wings  had  spread, 
To  bear  her  to  her  burial  bed. 
And  then  there  rushed  a  sudden  hue 

Of  burning  brightness  o'er  her  face ; 
A  wildness  in  her  dark  eyes  grew, 

Which  fear  could  only  half  erase  ; 
A  mad'ning  gaze,  which  sadly  spake 

Of  agony, — subdued  but  strong  ; 
A  heart  which  throbbed  as  though  'twould  break, 

Beneath  its  crushing  weight  of  woe  and  wrong. 


26  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Who  has  not  known,  throughout  the  changing  dream 
Which  we  terra  life,  some  bright  and  welcome  beam 
Dart  quickly,  like  a  brilliant  meteor's  blaze, 
Then  silently  depart  ! — until  our  gaze 
Is  left  to  wither  in  the  hateful  night 
Existence  leaves  without  its  cherished  light  ! 
Who,  when  some  sudden  joy  has  lit  the  heart, 
Not  known  a  stranger  bliss  in  his  bosom  start; 
A  mad'ning  thrill,  a  pleasing  pain,  until, 
Imagination  yielding  to  the  will, 
Another  being  wakes  !  when  the  freed  mind 

Forgets  earth's  dull  realities,  and  builds 
Up  airy  castles — shapes  all  undefined — 

Which  love  with  its  enchantments  sweetly  gilds  ! 
Who  has  not  mused  in  sweet  forgetfulness, 

To  the  harsh  murmur  of  the  living  dead; 
When  fondest  fancy  weaves  her  spells  to  bless,— 

With  every  dark  and  brooding  trouble  fled  ! 
When  the  soul,  loosed  from  the  electric  bond 

Which  chained  it  to  the  grosser  life  of  earth, 
Revels  in  all  the  formless  pleasures  fond, 

Which  fairy  hopes  and  shapeless  joys  give  birth  ! 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  27 

AYho  has  not  known  that  other,  purer  life, 

The  imaged  picture  of  the  one  to  come, 
AYhen  the  lulled  soul,  shut  out  from  every  strife, 

Is  lost  to  sorrow  in  its  airy  home  ! — 
Those  cherished  thoughts,  children  of  solitude, 

Creeping  like  floating  spirits  round  the  brain  ; 
AYinging  their  flight,  when  baser  tones  intrude, 

In  terror  back  to  their  lone  cell  again  ! 
Those  shadowy  forms  of  good  and  fairer  things 

Than  the  false  shows  of  idle  mockery  ; 
AYhich  we  can  know  but  in  our  wanderings — 

O 

AYhich  cannot  dwell  with  cold  reality  ! 


Such  had  Azaria  dreamed !     Her  life  had  grown 
To  an  ethereal  essence  ;  there  was  one 
AArhose  being,  heart  and  soul,  within  her  own 
AYas  blended  !     In  the  wild  world  there  were  none 
AYhom  either  sought  or  either  cared  to  know ; 
In  but  one  channel  could  their  feelings  flow, 
The  one  which  led  them  to  each  other's  side, 
AAThich  taugh  them  in  each  other  to  confide 


28  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

As  in  themselves  !  until  they  both  were  bound 
By  the  same  link  of  mutual  hopes  and  prayers ; 

Until  life  had  no  joy  but  what  they  found 
In  fondly  sharing  all  its  griefs  and  cares. 

Thus  had  they  dwelt  since  first  they  met, 

Thus  dreamed  the  fleeting  hours  away  ; 
'Mid  all  the  joys  Love  can  beget, 

And  all  the  charms  that  round  him  play. 
They  had  no  light  save  that  which  gleamed, 

Like  liquid  lightning,  from  the  eye  ; 
And  through  its  darkness  softly  streamed, 
And  o'er  their  glowing  features  beamed. 
They  had  no  other  music  save 

The  low  and  trembling  heart  wrung  sigh, 
Which  to  their  close-pressed  bosoms  gave 
A  world  of  feeling,  unexpressed, 
The  key  to  which  that  sigh  possessed  ! 


THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM. 


CANTO  II. 


•  And  on  my  bier  I'll  lay 

Me  clown  in  frozen  beauty,  pale  and  wan, 

Martyr  of  love  to  man, 

And  like  a  broken  flower,  gently  decay." 

BARRY  CORNWALL, 


TWAS  Twilight's  banquet  hour  ! 

The  parting  flush  of  day, 
In  silence  yielding  to  her  pow'r, 

Sank,  spirit-like,  away. 
The  gondolier's  low  note  was  dead, 

The  fragrant  air,  like  music's  sigh, 
Before  its  own  sweet  voice  had  fled, 

As  though,  like  joy,  'twere  horn  to  die. 


30  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

The  boatman's  song,  so  wild  and  deep, 

No  longer  echoes  o'er  the  wave  ; 
The  oars  within  their  row-locks  sleep, 

Like  voiceless  spirits  in  the  grave. 
Soft  beams  as  if  from  lover's  eyes, 

Smile  sweetly  down  from  stars  above  ; 
While  purple  cloudlings  kiss  the  skies, 

To  greet  them  with  their  gentle  love. 
The  Nightingale's  soft  strain  is  hushed, 

But  little  recks  Azaria  now  ; 
Her  eye  is  bright,  her  cheek  is  flushed, 

And  beauty  smiles  upon  her  brow. 
Like  living  snow,  her  heaving  breast, 

Her  flashing  eye  like  darts  of  fire  ; 
With  list'ning  ear  and  lips  compressed, 

She  stands  the  image  of  her  sire. 
That  sire  resembling,  yet  how  much 
Had  nature  altered  her  from  such ! 
'Mid  senses  fine  and  passions  wild, 
Were  feelings  in  that  Nature's  child, 
Which  scorned  the  bitter  treachery 
Her  venal  lord  seemed  born  to  be  ! 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  81 

She  thinks  not  of  the  dreaded  doom, 

"\Vhich  o'er  her,  fate-like,  darkly  hangs  ; 
Than  which  more  welcome  far  the  tomb, — 

For  that  had  few  and  happier  pangs  ! 
Her  thoughts  were  lost  in  Hope's  bright  spell, 
And  gentle  Memory  ceased  to  dwell 
Upon  the  hated  words  which  fell 
That  day  upon  her  soul  like  gloom. 
The  Past,  though  dark  with  misery, 

Her  raptured  brain  had  all  forgot ; 
And  what  the  Future's  lot  might  be, 
To  her  was  one  dim  mystery, 

As  anxiously  she  trod  the  spot 
"Where  first  Orestes  breathed  his  vow, 
And  where  she  waited  for  it  now. 

Hark,  hark,  to  a  light  and  hurried  pace, 

A  whispering  sound  of  trampled  leaves  ; 
One  moment,  and  she  meets  his  face, 

Another,  and  her  bosom  heaves 

Convulsive  to  his  own  ; 
Their  beings  fired,  almost  expired 

A  sacrifice  at  Eros'  throne  ! 


32  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

SONG. 

"  Aza,  loved-one,  best  and  dearest, 

Once  more  welcome  to  this  heart, 
Which,  for  thee,  is  all  sincerest, 

Thee,  from  whom  it  near  can  part ! 
Ah,  each  moment  sadly  winging, 

Calls  up  dreams  of  peace  and  bliss  ; 
From  the  cells  of  memory  springing, 

Dreams,  beloved,  of  joy  like  this  ! 


See  !  the  stars  their  lights  are  blending, 

Sweetly  smiling  on  our  love  ; 
And  the  moon,  her  pale  beam  lending, 

Fondly  greets  us  from  above. 
Though  the  earth  be  cold,  unfeeling, 

Thou,  Azaria,  be  my  star; 
Like  their  silver  rays  come  stealing,— 

But  not  like  them  from  afar  ! 

Ever  with  me,  alway  round  me, 
Let  thy  love  my  pathway  light ; 


THE    TWILIGHT   DREAM.  33 

And  be  the  spell  by  which  thou'st  bound  me, 

Fadeless,  as  it  now  is  bright. 
We,  earth's  faithless  shadows  leaving, 

To  some  lonely  cot  will  flee, 
Where  shall  dwell  no  cold-deceiving, 

Trust-forsaking  mockery. 

"  Why  that  frown  thy  smile  o'er-shading  ? 

AVhy  that  pale  and  drooping  brow  ? 
Is  thine  own  love  then  so  fading  ? 

Is  so  false  thy  changing  vow  ? 
Art  tJwu,  too,  but  true  in  seeming  ? 

Have  I  loved,  adored  in  vain  ? 
Has  this  heart  been  madly  dreaming, 

Must  it  wake  to  life  again  ? 
Must  it  find  the  hopes  it  cherished 

Left  to  wither  in  the  dust  ? 
Must  it  find  its  glory  perished, 

And  betrayed  its  faithful  trust?" 

"  Nay,  heed  me,  sweet  Orestes  !  by  yon  sky, 

Reading  each  bosom  from  its  throne  on  high, 
4 


84  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

Let  not  such  dark  words  from  thine  anger  start, 
Which  sink,  like  daggers,  to  this  bleeding  heart. 
But  when  thine  ears  the  bitter  tale  have  learned, 
And  when  thy  soul  beneath  its  woe  has  burned, 
Thou  wilt  not  wonder  that  my  heart  is  sad, — 
Thine  own,  beloved  one,  could  it  be  more  glad  ? 
I  gaze  upon  thy  smiling  face, 

I  meet  thy  bright  and  flashing  eye, 
Yet  no  confusion  canst  thou  trace, 

When  other  forms  than  thine  are  by ! 
No  bloodless  cheek,  no  stifled  sigh, 

Betoke  my  holy  love  for  thee  ; 
Stern  pride  repels  the  quivering  cry 

Which  springs  to  life  uncalled  by  me  ! 
When  others  from  thy  side  depart, 

I  feel  this  bosom  wildly  swell ; 
And  silently  this  anxious  heart 

Weeps — love  that  tears  alone  can  tell. 
Thou  may'st  not  read  it  in  the  eye, 

Thou  may'st  not  glean  it  from  the  cheek, 
Too  deep,  too  deep  the  sere  pangs  lie, 
For  the  cheek  to  tell  or  the  eye  to  speak. 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  £o 

The  rose  may  bloom,  though  its  Avithered  heart 

Enshrouds  the  blighting  canker  there  ; 
And  if  the  tear  refuse  to  start, 

'Tis  quenched  in  the  blazings  of  despair. 
When  Memory's  dusky  shade  shall  fall, 

Bathing  the  soul  in  her  cherished  light, 
And  brooding  Sorrow  at  the  call 

Steals  like  a  scorpion-sting  at  night ; 
Then  will  Jwecp  for  thy  gentle  hand 

To  press  to  this  hot,  consuming  brow ; 
For  hopes  which  have  flown  like  desert-sancl, 

When  burning  winds  its  bosom  plough  ! 
But,  oh  !  though  the  blaze  which  burns  this  brain, 

Like  the  glare  of  a  deep,  dark,  inborn  hell, 
Reveal  no  sign  of  the  spirit's  pain, — 

It  feels  far  more  than  the  tongue  can  tell ! 
I  love  thee  !  in  that  sacred  vow 

Is  hope,  life,  death,  ay  !  all  to  me  ! 
Yet,  while  to  fate  I  humbly  bow, 

That  fate  which  tears  me  far  from  thee, — 
One  last,  one  cherished  wish  of  mine, 

By  thee  I  would  not  have  forgot, 


36  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Though  roaming  far  from  thee  and  thine, 
Forget  me  not !  forget  me  not !" 


And  thus  she  spoke,  while  many  a  tear 

Stole  softly  from  her  dark  black  eye, 
And  kissed  her  waxen  cheek  with  fear, 

And  mingled  with  her  quivering  sigh. 
Oh,  she  was  heavenly  fair,  as  there 
The  low  wind  fanned  her  raven  hair  ; 
His  arm  around  her  circling  bent, 
Her  head  upon  his  shoulder  leant, 
Like  two  bright  rays  of  beauty,  sent 
To  be  earth's  fairest  ornament ! 
Quick  fancy  wandered  to  the  years, 

The  dawning  future  darkly  ope'd, 
But  shrunk  in  terror  from  the  fears, 

Which  threat'ningly  around  it  stooped. 
Beneath  its  viewless  stream  so  fair, 

Full  many  a  grim  and  ghastly  rock, 
Seemed  waiting,  like  sphynx-eyed  despair, 

To  crush  their  life-barks  with  its  shock. 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Full  many  a  cloud  there  rose  to  gloom 

The  sky  of  all  their  hopes,  and  yet, 
Though  darkness  seemed  to  be  their  doom, 

The  Present  made  them  all  forget ! 
They  could  not  realize  the  view, 

They  could  not  feel  that  they  must  part, 
Hope  o'er  its  dark  her  crimson  threw, 

And  Memory  drove  it  from  the  heart. 
They  turned  to  the  past,  the  dreamy  past, 

The  happy  past  when  first  they  met ; 
And  sighed  o'er  joys  too  bright  to  last, 

O'er  hours  they  never  could  forget. 
And  thus  they  stood,  and  thus  they  thought 

Of  pleasures  dead,  of  woes  to  live  ; 
And  from  each  silent  pressure  sought 

Their  voiceless  sympathy  to  give. 
That  sympathy  which  silence  tells, 

And  kindred  thoughts  and  feelings  lend, 
Which  in  the  love-fraught  glancing  dwells, 

When  mingling  souls  together  blend. 
A  sympathy  which  we  can  feel, 

Electric-like,  our  beings  thrill, 
4* 


38  TUB   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

When  far  from  mocking-mirth  we  steal, 
To  muse  with  nature,  hushed  and  still  ! 

And  this  they  felt ;  ay,  more  than  this  ! 
Their  souls  into  each  other  poured  ; 

And  'mid  their  wild,  delightful  bliss, 
To  raptured  worlds  of  transport  soared. 

SONG. 

"  Aza,  canst  thou  be  deceiving  ? — 

My  life  !  my  love  !  ah,  say  thou  art ! 
Break  not  the  golden  chord  while  weaving 

Viewless  gladness  round  thy  heart ! 
Say  thy  sire,  beneath  thy  sorrow, 

Melted  as  thyself  hast  done  ; 
£ay  not  that  the  coming  morrow 

Makes  us  two,  who  should  be  one  ! 

See  !  the  silvery  air  is  sleeping, 
Like  some  vision,  round  us  now ; 

And  the  eyes  of  heaven  are  weeping 
Tears  of  fondness  on  thy  brow  ! 


THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM.  39 

Wilt  thou  leave  this  heart,  betraying 

All  its  truthful  trust  could  give  ? 
Hast  thou  with  its  love  been  playing  ? 

Cans't  thou  break  it  now,  and  live  ? 

Wilt  thou,  like  some  captive  pining, 

Meet  this  dungeon  of  despair  ; 
While  Hope's  quenchless  torch  is  shining, 

Luring  fondly  from  its  care  ? 
Other  climes  and  shores  delighting, 

Ope  their  arms  to  greet  us  now  ; 
Other  smiling  skies  inviting, 

Bear  a  welcome  on  their  brow — " 

"  Ah  !  cease,  Orestes  !   deepen  not  the  pangs, 

Themselves  too  deep,  which  I  must  know  forever 
The  changeless  fate  which  o'er  us  darkly  hangs — 

In  vain  we  pine  !  no  hand  save  Death's  can  sever  ! 
Oh  !  turn,  beloved  one,  turn  thou  not  away, 

Let  not  thy  look  upbraid  me  with  its  frown  ; 
This  poor  heart's  love  shall  never  know  decay, 

But  live  in  memory  blended  with  thine  own  ! 


40  THE   TWILIGHT   DRENM. 

Henceforth  its  lot  is  misery  !  yet  oh 

Forget  it  not,  when  with  the  gay  and  proud  ! 

Think,  fondly  think  upon  the  past,  although 
Admiring  wealth  and  beauty  round  thee  crowd ! 

"  Thou  wilt  find  one  whose  gentle  voice 
Shall  bid  thy  gloomy  heart  rejoice ; 
Thou  wilt  find  one  whose  lovely  smile 

Shall  wake  a  dream-land  far  more  bright, 
Than  hers,  whose  soul  is  dark,  the  while 

Thine  own  is  thrilling  with  delight. 
Thou  wilt  find  joy,  when  I  shall  pine 

A  captive  to  a  hated  love  ; 
Whose  every  vow  must  call  up  thine, 

Like  darkness  in  the  world  above  ! 
Thou'lt  find  another,  whose  soft  hand 

Shall  soothe  all  trouble  from  thy  brow, 
Far  distant  in  some  other  land, 

Nor  think  of  her  who  loves  thee  now  !' 

Azaria  seized  her  light  guitar, 

And  swept  the  chords  with  quivering  sound  ; 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  41 

No  harsher  sound  anear  to  mar 

The  melody  she  stirred  around. 
While,  like  a  Goddess  to  the  view, 
She  sadly  breathed  her  last  adieu. 

SONG. 

"Farewell !  though  others  round  thee  smiling, 

Dry  the  tear  affection  weeps, 
Till,  'neath  their  gentle  hand  beguiling, 

Thy  healing  heart  in  sweetness  sleeps ; — 
Wilt  thou  not  from  bliss  returning 

Breath  one  parting  sigh  for  me  ? 
Me  whose  bosom  now  is  burning, 

With  its  faithful  love  for  thee  ? 

Through  thy  future's  vista  gleaming, 

Golden  blessings  strew  thy  Avay ; 
Beauty  round  each  path  is  beaming, 

Wilt  thou,  can'st  thou  wish  to  stay  ? 
But  for  her  whose  fading  pleasure, 

With  thy  parting  glance  must  die, 


42  THE  TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Grief  has  brimmed  her  burdened  measure, 
Festering  deep  her  tortures  lie  ! 


Weep  for  her  when  sad  and  lonely, 

"Weep  for  her  whose  life  is  tears ; 
Tears  for  one  she  loves — the  only 

One  whom  memory  now  endears  ! 
She  who'll  dream  and  haply  borrow, 

From  her  visioned  thoughts  so  free, 
Hopings  that  each  coming  morrow 

Brings  its  birth  of  joy  to  thee. 


Think  of  her  when  peace  is  filling 

Up  thy  cup  of  happiness  ; 
When  thy  soul  with  joy  is  thrilling, 

Think  of  her  thy  thoughts  shall  bless  ! 
When  thine  own  is  sadly  aching 

For  the  peace  it  has  not  found, 
Think  of  her  whose  heart  is  breaking, 

Bleeding  with  a  cureless  wound  ! 


TIIE    TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

Thou  hast  all  the  world  before  thee, 

Thou  hast  hopes  I  cannot  crave  ; 
"Would  to  heaven  before  I  saw  thee, 

I  had  found  them  in  the  grave ! 
Yet  farewell !  and  when  receding 

From  the  heart  that's  all  thine  own, 
Think,  if  then  thine  own  is  bleeding, 

Of  the  one  left  cold  and  lone  !" 


She  ceased  !  but  through  each  crimsoned  vein 

The  bounding  life-blood  madly  streamed  ; 
The  only  sign  of  tearless  pain 

Save  that  which  in  her  wild  eye  beamed. 
Her  woman's  will  the  outiuard  show, 

Of  hidden  tumult,  strong,  represt ; 
However  deep  the  tide  of  woe, 

She  locked  it  in  her  own  dark  breast. 
Orestes  tuned  the  sleepful  lyre, 

And  swept  its  gentle  chords  along ; 
With  flashing  eye,  and  heart  of  fire, 

Thus  poured  his  burden  in  his  song. 


44  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 


SONG. 

When  the  slow  sun,  declining, 

Glides  down  to  his  rest, 
All  earth  is  left  pining 

In  darkness  unblest ; 
But  the  mantle,  enshrouding, 

The  morrow  decays  ; 
And  the  gloom  o'er  it  clouding, 

Yields  up  to  Sol's  rays. 


Like  the  soft  dews  descending 

Its  sweets  to  impart, 
Is  love  sweetly  blending 

Its  joys  round  the  heart ; 
But  ah  !  when  once  broken, 

The  heart  knows  no  morrow, 
To  bring  back  vows  spoken, 

Or  lighten  its  sorrow. 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  45 

Then  leave  him  not  nighted, 

Whose  sun  is  thine  eye ; 
Without  whose  ray  lighted, 

lie  must  wither  and  die  ! 
Oh,  how  could  his  being 

Live  severed  from  thine  ? 
Ah,  no  !  love  decreeing, 

Thou  still  must  be  mine  ! 
No  !  leave  him  not  sinking 

In  sorrow  alone, 
Whose  soul  should  be  linking 

Its  fate  with  thine  own  ! 


"  Can'st  thou  then  leave  me !  thou,  my  soul,  for  whom 

My  desert  life  hath  now  become  so  fair  ? 
Can'st  thou  thus  bid  me  seek  once  more  the  tomb, 

The  cold  and  settled  anguish  of  despair  ? 
Have  I  then  taught  my  soul  to  live  for  thee, 

To  hear — to  see  no  image  save  thine  own, 
Only  to  feel  once  more  the  misery 

Of  being  cast  upon  the  world  alone  ? 
5 


46  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

No,  not  alone  !  for,  through  each  silent  hour, 

Memory  would  aye  in  sadness  view  the  past ; 
In  mockery  dreaming,  by  her  faithful  power, 

Of  the  sweet  moment  when  I  saw  thee  last  ! 
Recall  it,  to  feel  that  it  is  all  dream, 

To  break  the  spell  just  as  thy  lips  I  pressed  ; 
To  find  it  but  a  momentary  gleam, 

Leaving  a  deeper  darkness  in  the  breast. 
How  could  I  bear  to  live  and  thus  review 

Moments  of  bliss,  to  find  their  pleasure  dead  ? 
To  trace  each  budding  feeling  as  it  grew — 

Only  to  prove  the  joy  it  gave  has  fled  ! 
Each  little  bird,  each  sweet  enticing  flower, 

Each  star  whose  jewelled  features  I  should  meet, 
Would  fall,  like  deadly  blight,  with  withering  power, 

Upon  the  heart's  quick,  agonizing  beat ! 
For  in  each  object  of  the  world  I  view, 

Since  first  I  met  thee,  thee  alone  I  see  ; 
Nor  can  I  ever,  though  thyself  untrue, 

Be  false,  beloved,  or  changeable  to  thee  !" 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  47 


SONG. 

"  Go,  go  if  thou  canst,  but  when  far,  far  away, 

Like  sand  on  the  desert,  my  life-bark  is  cast, 
"\Yhcn  thoughts  round  thy  visions,  like  serpents,  shall 


And  carry  thee  back  in  thy  dreams  to  the  past  ; 

Thou'lt  weep  while  thy  heart  in  its  sorrow  is  breaking, 
Yes,  weep,  for  thy  soul  will  be  shrouded  in  gloom  ; 

As  mine,  tho'  far  distant,  must  madly  be  aching, 
Awaiting  in  silence  the  peace  of  the  tomb. 

Ah,  thus  is  it  ever  with  bosoms  of  feeling, 

Some  pang  of  misfortune  is  hovering  near, 
Some  dark  spring  of  anguish,  whence,  silently  steal 

ing, 
The  eye  that  is  kindest  is  dimmed  by  its  tear  !" 


48  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Azaria  struggled  to  repress 

The  agonizing  pang  she  felt  ; 
To  hide  her  trembling  soul's  distress 

As  on  his  slighted  word  she  dwelt, 
In  looks  of  gentlest  tenderness. 
Howe'er  her  heaving  bosom  yearned, 
Howe'er  the  flame  of  passion  burned, 
It  failed,  beneath  her  woman's  will, 
To  move  one  feature  with  its  thrill. 
As  raging  ./Etna,  in  its  deep 
Flames  madly,  though  the  surface  sleep, 
Beneath  that  calm  and  cheerful  gaze 
Lurked  many  a  fiery  torture-blaze  ; 
Like  some  wild  torrent's  sweeping  rush, 
Increasing  darkly  in  its  gush  ! 
One  quick,  one  half  reproachful  look, 

No  sound  except  her  heart's  wild  beat,- 
The  flash  her  deadening  eye  forsook — 

She  sank  like  Noeina  at  his  feet  ! 
He  chafed  the  still,  unearthly  brow, 

And  wildly  kissed  the  marbled  cheek  ; 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  49 

But  the  lip  forgot,  and  the  eye  saw  not, 

What  nought  but  the  lip  or  the  eye  can  speak. 
And  oh  the  agonizing  hour 

What  human  tongue  can  tell, — 
When  Death  is  pending  o'er  the  flower 

We  all  have  loved  so  well ! 
To  see  the  one  whose  gentlest  tone 

Has  thrilled  us  with  delight, 
Like  beauty,  when  each  hope  has  flown, 

Destroyed  by  deadly  blight ! 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  51 


CANTO  III. 

PART  I. 

"  Without  thine  ear  to  listen  to  my  lay, 

Still  must  my  song,  my  thoughts,  my  soul  betray : 

Still  must  each  accent  to  my  bosom  suit, 

My  heart  unhush'd — although  my  lips  were  mute  !  " 

"  Think'st  thou  that  I  could  bear  to  part 
With  thee,  and  learn  to  halve  my  heart." 

BYROX. 

IT  is  a  fearful  gift — the  human  heart — 

With  all  the  cherished  hopes  of  early  years  ! 
Then,  then  to  view  them  as  their  beams  depart, 

Seen  dim  and  sadly  through  our  rising  tears  ! 
It  is  a  fearful  cast !  and  as  the  glow 

Of  youthful  fire  declines  within  apace, 
As  fading  Time  brings  shadows  to  the  brow, 

And  crippling  Age  destroys  each  pleasing  grace ; 


52  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

It  is  a  fearful  thing  for  us  to  find 

Our  every  tender  feeling  lias  been  crossed ; 
The  brain  been  maddened ;  and  the  deadened  mind 

A  wreck  upon  the  sea  of  Reason  tossed  ! 
Oh  Agony!  to  know  that  those  for  whom, 

Like  bark  upon  the  waters,  we  have  sought ; 
Whose  smile  has  brightened  up  each  scene  of  gloom, 

With  many  a  dark  and  secret  torture  fraught — 
Have,  like  the  leaf  in  wild  convulsion  hurled, 

Been  lost  to  us  just  when  they  seemed  most  dear  ; 
"When  life  seemed  waning  from  this  dreary  world, 

To  glow  more  fondly  in  a  better  sphere  ! 


'Tis  sad,  oh  very  sad !  to  view  the  grave 

Open  its  yawning  depth,  to  bury  those 
Whom  we  would  suffer  every  death  to  save 

From  the  cold  horror  of  its  chill  repose  ! 
Friends  whom  we  love,  whom  early  years 

When  fond  enthusiasm  stirs  the  breast, — 
Whom  every  hope  and  memory  endears — 

Sinking  like  dew-drops  to  their  lonely  rest  ! 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  53 

The  cheek  must  blanch,  and  from  the  tear-dimmed 

eye, 

The  stream  of  anguish  force  its  silent  way, 
As,  in  the  burdened  breast,  a  swelling  sigh 

Speaks  the  last  farewell  o'er  the  mouldering  clay. 

Tis  a  sad  hour  for  the  poor  human  brain, 

When  Death,  like  a  winged  spirit,  comes  to  steal 
The  joys  of  love,  which  gone,  come  not  again, — 

The  bliss,  which  dead,  we  never  more  may  feel ! 
But  darker,  0,  than  this,  it  is,  to  stand, 

Like  some  wrecked  pilgrim  to  a  distant  shrine, 
Who  sinks  exhausted,  as  his  withered  hand 

Would  touch  the  altar  which  he  deems  divine, — 
Just  as  his  soul  would  breathe  its  fondest  prayer 

For  the  one  object  of  its  toil-worn  thought — 
Sinks  in  his  uncheered  loneliness,  as  there 

He  finds — to  lose — the  Mecca  wildly  sought  ! 
Yes,  darker,  oh,  than  this — when  the  wrapt  soul, 

Linked  by  its  fiery  thoughts  with  one  lone  thing, 
Hath  made  that  object  of  its  life  the  whole 

And  noblest  being  of  its  worshipping : 


54  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

Alas  !  to  find  it  far  beyond  the  grasp, 
To  prove  it  but  a  shadowy  vision  fair. — 

Decaying,  when  its  fairy  form  we'd  clasp 
Within  our  arms,  to  dwell  forever  there  ! 

'Tis  not,  ah,  no  !  'tis  not  that  we  must  turn 

From  the  sweet  path  which  smiles  upon  our  way, 
Beaming  in  beauty  through  its  edge  of  fern, 

Enticing  us  amid  its  flowers  to  stray ; 
'Tis  not  to  leave  untasted  what  we  ne'er 

Have  fondly  sought !  the  bitter  tide  of  woe 
Springs  when  the  heart  is  wakened  to  despair — 

From  hopes  too  heavenly  to  continue  so  ! 
Alas,  when  we  have  taught  the  heart  to  peer 

Into  the  Future  as  a  time  of  peace, 
Bereft  of  all  the  agony  of  Fear — 

Undreaming  that  its  joy  could  ever  cease : 
How  doubly  dark  must  seem  its  rayless  gloom, 

How  doubly  deep  the  blackness  of  its  hours, 
When  all  our  joys  have  faded  in  the  tomb, 

And  we  are  left  alone,  like  withered  flowers, 

Without  one  heart  in  unison  with  ours  ! 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  55 

Affection  is  a  sweet  and  gentle  thing, 

Springing,  like  purest  flowers,  from  the  drear 
Waste  of  weedy  thoughts  within,  to  bring 

A  sweeter  perfume  through  the  changing  year. 
It  builds  another  fabric  round  the  mind, 

Of  nobler  hopes  and  mightier  design, 
Filling  the  soul  with  feelings  more  refined, 

Feelings  less  earthly,  feelings  more  divine  ! 
But  when  the  heart,  beneath  the  welcome  spell 

lias  placed  its  dearest  hopes  upon  the  cast, 
The  misery,  what  human  tongue  may  tell — 

When,  like  a  sudden  gleam,  the  dream  has  past ! 
What  doom  so  dread,  what  grave  so  cold  and  chill, 

That  would  unwelcome  offer  its  drear  rest, 
When  Time  has  proved  it  but  a  dream  of  ill, 

Bringing  a  gloomy  tumult  to  the  breast  ? 


In  all  the  bitter  agony  of  grief, 
Orestes  sought  each  means  of  fond  relief ; 
He  wildly  kissed  that  slow-reviving  cheek, 
In  gentlest  accents  urging  her  to  speak ; 


56  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Clasping  her  madly  to  his  breast  in  vain — 
Stopping  to  gaze — then  clasping  once  again 

Slow  as  the  light  of  Morning's  first-born  raj, 

Coming  in  softness  to  arouse  the  day ; 

Sweet  as  the  ravishing  but  modest  hue 

Of  gentlest  flowers,  wet  with  sparkling  dew, 

The  growing  blush  which  crimsoned  o'er  her  face, 

As,  with  a  scream,  she  sprang  to  his  embrace. 

"  Ah,  why  this  fond,  though  aching  bosom  chide, 

Which  could  not  live  one  moment  from  thy  side  ! 

Nay,  hear  me  !  by  yon  sacred  orbs  I  vow 

No  hand  shall  tear  me  from  thy  bosom  now  ; 

Though  deepest  misery  thy  portion  be, 

I'd  share  it  all  to  live  a  life  with  thee ; 

Or  should  we  sever,  torn  apart  by  fate, 

And  I  be  left  without  thee  desolate, 

Hear  me,  oh  Heaven  !  no  longer  would  I  dwell 

Where  with  thee's  Paradise — without  is  Hell !" 

Oh  Joy  !  within,  within  his  secret  soul 

The  quickened  tide  of  mingled  passions  roll ; 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  57 

Could  he  believe  it!  she,  o'er  whom  but  now 

He  wept  in  misery  the  parting  tear, — 
That  mild  black  eye,  that  bright  and  beaming  brow — 

Could  he  be  dreaming  !  was  she  truly  here  ! 
Did  that  full  breast  which  trembled  on  his  own — 
Which  beat  so  wildly — beat  for  him  alone  ! 
Was  the  past  hour  of  agony  but  dreamed — 
Oh,  was  she  then,  indeed,  what  now  she  seemed  ! 
How  could  he  meet  the  love-glance  of  that  eye, 
How  could  he  hear  that  heart-wrung,  trembling 

sigh, 

And  not  grow  mad  to  know  his  weak  belief 
Had  added  poison  to  her  cup  of  grief ! 
He  brushed  aside  the  flow  of  raven  hair, 
Which  fell  in  looseness  o'er  her  forehead  fair, 
And  pressed — once  more — and  yet  again,  ah  bliss ! 
Upon  its  whiteness,  love's  impassioned  kiss ! 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  59 


CAXTO  III. 


TART    II. 


"  A  long  farewell !  thou  wilt  not  bring  us  back 
All  whom  thou  bsarest  far  from  home  and  hearth, 
Many  are  thine  whose  steps  no  more  shall  track 
Their  own  sweet  native  earth." 

"  They  had  one  grave,  one  lonely  bridal-bed, 
Xo  friend,  no  kinsman  there  a  tear  to  shed  !" 

HEMANS. 


"  'Tis  midnight  hour !  far  o'er  the  glancing  sea, 
My  heart,  my  country,  turns  again  to  thee. 
Spreads  the  wide  canvass  of  its  hopes  once  more, 
To  greet  thy  loved  and  oft  remembered  shore  ! 
Still  would  I  seek,  within  some  secret  dell, 
The  voiceless  solitude  I  love  so  well ; 
Still  would  I  find  within  its  calm  repose 
The  stream  of  peace  that  from  contentment  flows  !" 


60  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

Thus  mused  Orestes,  as  the  bending  sail 
Caught  the  quick  motion  of  the  growing  gale ; 
Proud  in  her  helpless  majesty,  their  bark 
Leapt  like  some  courser  for  the  distant  mark  ; 
Cut  the  rude  waters  with  her  fearless  keel, 
Breasting  the  billows  with  a  heart  of  steel ; 
Exultingly  her  bounding  step  she  Avore, 
As  conscious  of  the  burden  that  she  bore  ! 


Dark  is  the  face  of  curtained  nature  !  high         % 
O'er  the  blast  shrieks  the  sea  mew's  hollow  cry ; 
Loud  rush  the  billows !  like  the  fatal  blow 
Of  some  huge  empire  in  its  overthrow. 
Lo !  from  the  west,  like  giants  from  their  sleep, 
The  coiling  clouds  roll  proudly  o'er  the  deep ; 
Flinging  the  waste  of  waters  in  their  wrath, 
Like  feathered  striplings  from  their  boundless  path  ; 
Dashing  with  madness  o'er  the  flying  spray, 
Like  midnight  furies  in  their  demon  play. 
The  storm  is  up  !  and  grasps  the  writhing  sea, 
Like  some  fierce  monster  in  his  energy ; 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  61 

Hugs  the  huge  ocean  to  his  wrinkled  breast, 
Then  sweeps  in  wildness  o'er  its  fearful  crest  ! 
Mark  how  the  billows,  from  the  rushing  blast, 
Leap  to  the  voice  of  death — shrinking  aghast ! 
Like  hurrying  millions  when  the  tide  of  war 
Sweeps  her  destruction  o'er  their  native  shore. 


Voice  of  the  mighty  storm,  I  love  thy  moan  ! 
Waking  all  nature  to  a  kindred  groan  ; 
Till  the  roused  elements,  to  fury  lashed, 
In  headlong  terror  o'er  the  earth  are  dashed ; 
Licking  the  dust,  which  mouldering  else  would  lie, 
Wrapt  in  its  garment  of  obscurity. 
I  love  Thee,  spirit  of  the  haughty  storm, 
Striding  around  with  horror-burdened  form  ! 
As  o'er  the  world — the  selfish,  hateful  world — 
The  awful  thunders  of  thy  wrath  are  hurled. 
Ah !  how  ye  tremble,  hearts  which  dormant  lie, 
To  the  warm  tear  dropping  from  Sorrow's  eye ; 
Ah !  how  ye  tremble  when  the  peals  of  heaven 
Above  thy  cringing  forms  are  wildly  driven ; 
6* 


62  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

Conscious  if  mercy  temper  not  the  dart 
'Twill  sink  like  anguish  to  thy  bleeding  heart ! 
Ay  do  I  love  thee,  in  thy  grandeur,  when 
Thou  rid'st  the  gale,  sweeping  the  hollow  glen  ; 
When  thy  chill  meanings  clasp  the  hugging  hill, 
Bending  the  forest  to  thy  giant  will ; 
"Whirling  the  dew  drop  from  the  weeping  tree, 
Tearing  the  ocean  in  thy  tempest  glee  ! 
Ay  !  do  I  love  thee,  Spirit !  for  I  feel 
Shadows  of  freedom  through  my  bosom  steal, 
When  shrinking,  serpent-like,  to  her  retreat, 
I  view  oppression  crawling  at  thy  feet. 
Yes !  feel  that  earth,  quick  though  the  vision  be, 
Shall  burst  her  chains,  and  be  forever  free. 

Orestes  turned,  and,  like  the  orient  bright, 
Crowning  dull  morning  with  its  wreath  of  light, 
Shone  the  two  eyes,  which  sparkling  through  their 

tears, 

Beaming  on  him  they  loved — forgot  their  fears  ! 
While  their  small  vessel  like  a  joyful  bride, 
Danced  swift  and  gaily  o'er  the  rushing  tide. 


THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM.  63 

Ah  how  we  cling  through  each  dark,  weary  hour, 

To  the  dear  beings  of  our  every  thought  ; 
Turning  to  them,  as  to  some  houri's  bower, 

Where  every  motion  is  with  beauty  fraught  ! 
She  is  with  him !  "  Now  let  the  worse  betide, 

If  I  must  perish  be  it  at  thy  side  !" 
Like  the  freed  pinions  of  a  captive  bird, 

Loosed  from  the  bondage  it  has  sadly  borne, 
Her  soul  was  fearless  when  his  voice  she  heard — • 

Life,  life  were  worthless  with  its  music  gone. 


The  storm  at  sea !  how  the  entangled  air 

Howls  through  the  cordage  in  its  dread  despair ; 

Wresting  the  winking  bubbles  from  the  deep, 

Crushing  the  billow  in  its  haughty  leap  ; 

'Till  the  foam,  coiling  'neath  the  spirit-force, 

Breaks  into  atoms  in  its  frenzied  course. 

Mark  how  yon  vessel  in  its  terror  gasps, 

As  the  huge  wave  her  yielding  bosom  clasps  ! 

Unequal  strife !  at  each  terrific  blow, 

All  Heaven  seems  aiming  for  her  overthrow  ; 


64  THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM. 

'Till,  with  a  lurch,  the  parting  timbers  leap, 
With  fearful  crash,  into  the  boiling  deep  ; 
Lost  'mid  the  sounding  war  of  wind  and  wave, 
To  rot  and  moulder  in  their  ocean  srrave. 


High  o'er  the  echoing  voicings  of  the  roar 

Of  Heaven's   Destruction,    whirling,  foam-like, 
round, 

Dripping  its  fury  over  sea  and  shore, 

Rises  a  piercing  cry — the  last  wild  sound 

Of  drowning  beings  as  they  gurgling  sink, 
Like  scattered  blossoms,  in  the  chilly  sea ; 

Paling  in  terror  on  the  icy  brink 

Which  severs  Time  from  dim  Eternity — 
While  curling  billows  toss  them  in  their  fiendish 
glee ! 

Grim  Death,  thou  art  terrible  !  Thou  dost  bring 

Shadows  of  agony  upon  thy  brow ; 
Stealing  in  secret,  like  a  serpent-sting, 

To  make  more  sure  thy  dark  and  fatal  blow ; 


THE   TWILIGHT    DREAM.  05 

Tearing  away,  like  reeds,  earth's  dearest  ties, 
As  if  they  were  of  momentary  birth  ; 

Spreading  thy  scaly  mantle  o'er  the  eyes 

Whose  light  has  been  the  focus  of  our  mirth — 
Yet  reft  of  Thee,  0  Death,  what  were  Life  worth  ? 


Ay,  ghastly  sleep  !  rending  the  cords  of  Hope, 
When  thy  cold  film  droops  o'er  the  glassied  sight? 

Closing  the  seal  no  mortal  power  can  ope — 
Though  fiery  passions  urge  it  to  the  fight  ! 

Ah,  how  we  flutter  at  thy  chill  embrace, 
Curdling  the  vital  current  in  its  flow ; 

As  thy  dun  shadows,  creeping  o'er  the  face, 
Sink  duskly  down  upon  the  shrinking  brow — 
Smiling  in  dark  triumph  at  Life's  overthrow  ! 


Mark  how  they  cling,  amid  the  billowy  swell, 
Hugging  the  tossing  timbers  as  they  go  ! 

Then  dropping,  one  by  one,  with  dreadful  yell, 
Into  the  cold  and  slimy  caves  below  : 


66  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

While  ever  and  anon,  on  the  shrill  wind, 
Like  the  sad  murmur  from  the  closing  tomb, 

Creep  the  last  groanings  of  some  frenzied  mind, 
As  the  stiff  body,  to  its  couch  of  gloom, 
Falls  with  a  splash — down  to  its  watery  doom  ! 

Orestes  spake  not !  but  with  mighty  arm, 

Wrapt,  like  an  iron  clasp,  around  the  form, 
Whose  gentle  loveliness,  to  shield  from  harm, 

He  would  have  gladly  braved  the  fiercest  storm ; 
Lashed  to  the  creaking  body  of  a  beam, 

Chafed  the  still  temples  of  his  trembling  mate  ; 
Clutching  more  fiercely,  lest  the  insatiate  stream 

Should  claim  his  bride,  and  leave  him  desolate ; 

To  brave  alone  his  dark  and  billowy  fate  ! 


Slow  fades  the  sun,  as  in  the  crimsoned  West 
His  last  soft  ray  glides  to  its  golden  rest ; 
And  gentlest  stars,  like  diamond-eyes,  now  peep, 
To  view  their  splendor  in  the  tranquil  deep. 


THE  TWILIGHT   DREAM.  G7 

Like  a  proud  queen  the  silver  moon  appears, 
To  quench  her  thirsting  in  the  ocean's  tears. 
The  storm  is  over  and  the  breaker's  roar, 
Sweeping  the  blackened  skies,  is  heard  no  more  ! 
But  by  the  pallid  rays — Lo  !  ghast  and  pale, 
Three  human  forms  gaze  on  a  distant  sail; 
Grasping  in  death — last  lingering  hope,  farewell ! 
The  promised  rescue  from  their  present  hell. 
Like  sleep's  dim  vision  in  the  dawning  light, 
The  less'ning  whiteness  fades  in  growing  night ; 
'Till  o'er  the  calmly  sleeping  waste  of  blue, 
Its  shape  is  buried  from  their  eager  view. 
Then  gleamed  the  horror  of  their  last  despair, 
As,  wildly  struggling  with  the  yielding  air, 
Parted  their  purpled  lips, — but  not  a  sound 
Broke  the  deep  stillness  breathing  sadly  round — 
Save  the  low  gurgling  sob,  convulsive  groan, 
Which  left  me  there  upon  the  sea — alone  I 


Be  still,  my  burning  brain  !  in  mercy  still ! 
Ha  !  shall  I  tell  thee  how  my  clutching  grasp 


68  THE   TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

Grew  to  the  timbers  with  an  iron  will, 

Then  dropped  exhausted?     With  one   parting 
gasp, 

I  sank,  a  stiffened  wreck  of  human  wo, 

And  the  wave  rippled  o'er  my  flushless  face  : 

Go,  scene  of  horror !  Ay,  in  mercy,  go  ! 

With  the  dread  memory  of  that  death-embrace  ! 

I  saw  not — heard  not ;  but  like  one  asleep, 

Lay  floating  motionless,  save  as  the  tide, 
Rousing  anon  its  jealous  swell,  would  leap, 

In  cruel  mockery,  about  my  side. 
Then  once  again  I  woke,  amid  the  hum 

Of  curious  voices,  startling  the  crazed  brain, — 
Ha !  even  now  I  hear  them  as  they  come, 

Bringing  the  terrors  of  that  hour  again  ! 

0  God  !  that  I  had  died  when  I  was  born, 
Rather  than  lived  to  suffer  pangs  like  those ; 

Health,  Reason,  Hope,  and  every  feeling  gone — 
Why,  why  was  I  alone  denied  repose  ? 


THE    TWILIGHT    DREAM.  69 

Lady  !  thou  hast  the  tale.     In  yon  low  spot, 

One,  one  in  life — love — kindred  passion — death, 
Under  the  slimy  turf,  in  coldness  rot, 

The  two  young  lovers !    O'er  them  grows  the 

heath ; 
And  hither  I,  twin-brother  in  their  woe, 

Steal  in  the  sorrowing  stillness  of  the  night, 
To  watch  above  their  tomb — ere  7,  too,  go  ; 

A  heart-wrecked  mourner  to  the  realms  of  li^ht ! 


Sweet  breathes  the   Morn,  as,  like  a  bright-eyed 

maid, 

To  wed  the  day  she  comes  in  joy  arrayed ; 
Blushing  in  modest  beauty  as  her  eye 
Casts  its  first  glimmering  along  the  sky ; 
Gilding  each  mountain-top  and  craggy  hill, 
Viewing  her  glory  in  each  tinkling  rill, 
'Till,  like  a  bursting  vision  soft  and  bright, 
All  earth  seems  floating  in  her  flood  of  light. 
Lo  !  the  huge  sun,  like  a  lion  from  his  lair, 
Strides  proudly  up  and  shakes  his  golden  hair ; 


70  THE    TWILIGHT   DREAM. 

Tinging  the  budding  tree  and  blushing  flower, 
"With  the  fond  glory  of  the  cherished  hour  ! 

Still  sleep  upon  the  maiden's  lofty  brow, 

Like  a  proud,  crownless  queen,  sits  sadly  now  ; 

Her  cheek  is  slightly  flushed;  the  crimson  streak, 

Betokens  feelings  that  it  cannot  speak; 

While  ever  and  anon  the  winds  low  sigh 

Catches  a  murmur  as  it  whispers  by. 

Her  soul  is  with  her  vision  far  away, 

And  deeply  da.rk  the  shades  of  passion  play ; 

The  mellow  morn  salutes  her  with  its  beam, 

When,  with  a  start,  she  wakes!  and  this  her  dream. 


n  m 


1  5    n  f    ?  n  1  i  t  H 


SAD  MOMENTS. 

"  The  banquet  hath  its  hour, 
Its  feverish  hour  of  mirth,  and  song,  and  wine  ; 
There  comes  a  day  for  griefs  o'erwhelming  power, 
A  time  for  softer  tears." 

HE5IAXS. 

OH  !  there  are  moments  when  the  heart 

Shrinks  from  the  joyous  round  ; 
When  gloomy  visions  o'er  it  dart, 

To  the  wail  of  its  own  low  sound  ! 
When  the  smile  which  we  most  adore, 

We  may  dread  the  most  to  meet, 
And  the  voice  of  the  loved  no  more 

To  the  listless  ear  seems  sweet ! 

The  eye  which  is  dearest  when  gay, 

No  longer  its  spell  can  weave  ; 
And  we  haste  from  its  beaming  away 

In  some  silent  spot  to  grieve. 
7* 


72  MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

The  heart  seems  ready  to  break, 
By  its  Aveight  of  woe  opprest, 

And  the  laugh  of  the  happy  can  wake 
No  echoing  chord  in  the  breast ! 

What  bosom  that  hath  not  known 

Its  moments  of  sadness  like  these, 
When  its  every  hope  hath  flown, 

And  Pleasure  no  more  can  please  ? 
Ah  !  often  far  off  I  steal 

From  the  music  of  mirth  away, 
While  a  gloom  o'er  my  soul  I  feel, 

Like  shadows  at  set  of  day. 

No  eye  to  perceive  the  spell, 

That  around  my  spirit  is  cast, 
No  gaze  to  discern  the  hell, 

That  consumes  me  with  its  blast ! 
While  Thought,  like  the  scorching  air 

Which  across  the  desert  sweeps, 
Wrings  the  bosom  with  despair — 

Till  the  heart  in  madness  weeps. 


MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE.  73 

Sweet  moments  are  they  when  some  voice 

Awakes,  with  its  gentle  tone, 
A  chord  to  make  the  heart  rejoice 

In  answer  to  its  own. 
But  when,  like  the  light  from  Heaven, 

The  lyre  of  joy  has  fled, 
Each  chord  in  anguish  riven, 

And  the  soul  of  its  music  dead. 

Each  sound  once  loved  so  well, 

Now  falls  on  the  leaden  ear, 
Like  the  low  sad  mournful  knell 

Which  precedes  the  lonely  bier  ; 
And  we  seek  some  silent  spot, 

Where  the  world  cannot  intrude, 
Where  the  laugh  of  the  wild  comes  not 

To  break  on  our  solitude  ! 

And  oh  !  how  sweet  to  dream, 

In  this  twilight  of  the  soul, 
As  gentle  memories,  like  a  beam 

Of  glory,  o'er  it  roll  ! — 


MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

Sweet,  cherished  link  of  what  has  been, 

Though  it  can  be  no  more, 
Recalling  thus  each  dearest  scene — 

When  now  forever  o'er. 


LINES   TO  

When  Passion  like  a  sudden  gust, 

In  fury  sweeps  across  life's  stream, 
Clothing  thy  thoughts  in  harsh  distrust, 

And  cold,  unfeeling  makes  me  seem  : — 
Forgive  the  eye  its  quickened  flash, 

The  tongue  its  momentary  stings ; 
Full  soon  stern  reason  wakes,  to  dash 

To  earth  the  evil  anger  brings  ! 

Full  soon  the  heart  its  gentlest  tone, 

In  kindest  accent  turns  to  thee ; 
Yes !  wakes,  to  feel  through  many  a  groan, 

How  it  has  wronged  thy  memory. 
Though  Discord  trim  her  willing  flame, 

To  render  dark  thy  soul's  distress, — 
Still,  still  I  love  thee,  0  the  same ! 

Nor  can  I  ever  love  thee  less. 


76  MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

Judge  not  the  heart  by  idle  deeds. 

The  lonely  tear  its  fault  redeems ; 
It  smiles  full  oft  when  most  it  bleeds — 

Believe  it  is  not  what  it  seems. 
No  !  deem  not  that  this  filial  breast, 

Though  eager  all  its  chains  to  burst, 
Though  deeply  hating  all  the  rest, 

Can  cease  to  love  tliee  best  and  first ! 


LOVE'S  SERENADE. 

'Tis  solemn  midnight  and  the  sleep-bound  earth, 

No  longer  echoes  to  the  song  of  gladness  ; 
Sad  thoughts,  too  deep  for  words  receive  their  birth, 

Weaving  around  the  heart  a  spell  of  sadness. 
Thy  spirit,  dear  one,  to  the  influence  yielding, 

Now  revels  in  its  happy,  soothing  dreams ; 
Angels  thy  fairy  form  are  fondly  shielding, 

And  stars  gaze  proudly  on  theewith  their  beams. 

But  dark  rolls  the  tide  of  agony  and  sorrow, 

Dark,  dark  this  hour  I  pass,  in  thought  with 

thee ; 
Yet  darker,  oh !  and  sadder  the  dawning  of  the 

morrow ; 
For  it  tears  me  for  ever,  beloved  one,  from  thee ! 


78  MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

The  lyre  of  joy  within  this  breast  is  mute, 

The  still  blood  through  these  veins  creeps  slug 
gishly  and  chill ; 

Unless  thy  soft  voice,  like  Apollo's  lute, 
Awakes  the  chord  and  bids  its  music  thrill. 

And  yet,  perchance,  in  after  years,  when  change 

Has  brought  its  mete  of  sorrow  to  thy  breast, 
When  faces  grow  around  thee  new  and  strange, 

And  tears  alone  are  left  thee  once  so  blest : 
Memory  may  wander  to  the  friend  who  now, 

In  silent  worship  yields  his  soul  to  thee  ; 
Ah !  may  I  not,  beloved,  then  hope,  that  thou 

Wilt  breathe  a  kindly,  kindred  prayer  for  me  ? 


"  I  weep  for  the  ties  that  bound  me 
In  life's  first  early  days." 

MRS. 


GIVE,  give  me  back  my  youthful  home, 
My  lowly  cot  where  all  was  fair ; 

Amid  its  bowers  I  long  to  roam, 
And  all  its  guileless  pleasure  share  ! 

There  was  a  time  when  earth  was  glad, 
And  beamed  an  Eden  to  the  view ; 

Bnt  now,  ah,  now  'tis  dark  and  sad, 
And  weeds  spring  up  where  roses  grew  I 


80  MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

0,  for  oblivion's  endless  sleep, 

To  waft  these  bitter  memories  out ! 

0  for  sweet  Lethe's  silent  deep, 

To  quench  the  fevered  fear  of  doubt  ! 

1  pine  for  a  verdant  bed,  where  rest 

May  greet  once  more  this  bleeding  heart  ; 
\Yhere  gloomy  grief  may  leave  this  breast, 
And  all  its  agony  depart. 

I  gaze  upon  yon  silent  spheres, 

As  though  those  eyes  would  read  their  tale,- 
AVould  con  the  fate  of  future  years, 

From  out  their  livid  light  so  pale  : 

Alas !  those  brilliant  orbs  no  more, 

Glow  soft  and  bright  with  welcome  light ; 

Remembrance  of  the  days  of  yore, 

Now  robes  them  in  the  shades  of  night  ! 

And  oh,  left  lone  on  the  cold,  cold  earth, 
'Mid  all  its  wily  snares  to  roam, 

This  withered  breast  in  pain  gives  birth 
To  sobs  and  sighs  for  its  cottage  home. 


MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE.  81 

Ah  hark,  then,  to  the  warning  voice, 
Ye  souls,  which,  now  so  wildly  glad, 

Know  only  how  ye  may  rejoice, 

And  dream  of  nought  that's  ill  or  sad. — 

That  home  where  now  the  tones  of  glee, 

Float  gently  on  the  peaceful  air, 
Ere  eve  has  come  may  prove  to  thee, 

The  home  of  anguish  and  despair  ! 

Death  heeds  not  wealth — Death  heeds  not  fame, 
When  he  his  God-sent  mission  tends  ! 

Young,  old,  rich,  poor,  are  all  the  same, 
When  once  his  fatal  bow  He  bends  ! 

Then  prize  Affection  while  it  lives, 
Ye  know  not  of  the  clouded  hour, 

When  Heaven  its  meed  of  sorrow  gives — 
Nor  of  that  sorrow's  crushing  power  ! 


WHERE  I  WOULD  DIE. 


"  Yet  love,  if  love  in  such  an  hour 
Could  nobly  check  its  useless  sighs, 
Might  then  exert  its  latest  power 
In  her  who  lives,  and  him  who  dies." 

BYRON. 


WOULD  I  die  'mid  the  carnage  of  battle, 

Would  I  slumber  along  with  the  brave — 
'Mid  the  tempest  of  Death's  crashing  rattle, 

Would  I  seek  for  a  glory-crowned  grave? 
Would  I  fall  'mid  the  shrieks  of  the  dying, 

Where  God's  martyrs  are  strewn  on  the  plain, 
Where  the  bold  sons  of  freedom  are  lying, 

Like  the  sands  on  the  girt  of  the  main  ? 
Ah,  honored  though  such  death-couch  be, 
Yield  not  its  gory  rest  for  me  ! 


MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

Would  I  seek  me  a  tomb  in  the  ocean, 

Where  the  coral  and  sea-flower  grow ; 
Where  Naiads  pour  forth  their  devotion, 

In  the  wave-kings'  bowers  below  ? — 
Wh^re  the  billows  above  my  corse  sweeping, 

With  a  slow  and  a  wailing  moan, 
While  mermaids  around  were  sleeping, 

Might  sing  their  fierce  lullaby  tone  ? 
No  !  though  to  other  souls  most  dear, 
For  mine  the  breaker  has  no  cheer  ! 


Would  I  die  in  a  palace  of  riches, 

With  rubies  and  gems  sparkling  round, 
With  a  gilding  in  one  of  its  niches, 

For  my  face,  when  my  heart's  under  ground  ! 
Where  thousands  of  beings  could  wander 

To  gaze  upon  rare  works  of  art, — 
With  twinkle  of  envy  to  ponder, 

How  soon  my  last  breath  may  depart ! 
Though  cherished  by  a  colder  breast, 

My  heart  would  shun  such  mocking  rest. 

8* 


84  MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

Would  I  sleep  'neath  the  shade  of  the  myrtle, 

By  the  side  of  the  silvery  stream  ; 
Where  the  love  of  the  dove  and  the  turtle, 

Might  soften  each  dark-shrouded  dream  ? 
Where  the  music  of  clear  crystal  flowing, 

Could  lull  the  chilled  soul  in  its  gloom, 
And  the  little  blue  violet  growing, 

Gentle  sigh  to  the  wind  o'er  my  tomb  ? 
Oh,  sweet  in  such  still  peace  to  lie, — 
Though  not  the  spot  where  I  would  die  ! 


No  !  give  not  harsh  warfare's  bleak  anguish, 

Or  ocean's  lone  wavelet  for  me  ; 
Let  me  not  amid  wealth  slowly  languish, 

Though  titled  and  kingly  it  be  ! 
Let  me  fade  on  the  breast  of  affection, 

Let  love  pillow  this  heart  when  it  dies; 
Ear  sweeter  that  blissful  reflection, 

To  usher  the  soul  to  the  skies  ! 
Then  troubles  brighten  as  they  gush, 
And  tumult  sinks  like  Twilight's  hush  ! 


THOU  ART  ANOTHER'S. 


"The  hope,  the  fear,  the  jealous  care, 

The  exalted  portion  of  the  pain 
And  power  of  love,  I  cannot  share, 
But  wear  the  chain." 

BYRON. 


Thou  art  another's  !  yet  for  thee 

My  youthful  soul  breathes  many  a  sigh, 
And  weeps  o'er  cruel  fate's  decree, 

Which  dooms  it  thus  from  thine  to  fly  ! 
I  know  not  wliy  that  bitter  thought 

Should  gloom  the  sky  of  life  to  me, 
But  darkly  is  my  spirit  fraught 

With  sadness — when  apart  from  thee  ! 


86  MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

Thou  art  another's  !  yet  I  feel 

'Twere  vain  to  still  this  yearning  heart, 
Or  chide  the  gentle  thoughts  which  steal, 

And  from  my  soul  in  rapture  start ! 
I  know  not  whence  the  sacred  spell 

That  binds  me  speechless  to  thy  side, 
While  bright  thoughts  in  this  bosom  swell, 

Like  sunset  hues  at  eventide. 

I  cannot  tell  thee  why,  but  oh, 

When  others  fondly  breathe  thy  name, 
Wild  tumults  in  my  bosom  glow, 

And  Anger  lights  her  eager  flame  ! 
Yet  ah,  like  dew-drop  from  the  flower, 

Like  passing  wavelet  from  the  sea, 
Stern  passion  yields  her  jealous  power, 

And  turns  once  more  to  love  and  thee. 

And  yet  full  many  a  lonely  tear 
From  out  its  silent  home  will  rush, 

And  stifled  sob,  when  thou  art  near, 
And  wailing  sigh  in  madness  gush ! 


MOMENTS   OF    SOLITUDE.  87 

For  oh,  another's  soul  with  thine 

Has  mingled,  like  sweet  thoughts  at  even, 

And  now  no  more  through  life  may  mine 
To  hope  of  love  from  thee  be  given  ! 

Yet  oft,  methinks,  a  languid  smile, 

That  told  of  something  strange  and  sweet, 
Has  dyed  thy  brow  and  cheek  the  while, 

I've  kneeled  in  sadness  at  thy  feet ! 
But  oh,  the  fleet  and  mocking  sleep 

That  whispers  such  fond  dreams  to  me, 
Comes  but  to  rouse  me  from  its  deep 

Of  bliss — to  endless  misery. 
I  know  and  feel, — alas  !  too  well! — 

The  tie  which  binds  me  still  to  thee, 
And,  though  far,  far  from  thee  I  dwell, 

Of  thee  my  latest  thought  must  be  ! 


A  MOTHER'S  LOVE. 


There  is  a  star,  •whose  ceaseless  glow, 

Through  many  a  howling  storm  of  night, 
Its  lustre  sheds  on  all  below, 

And  guides  them  by  its  heavenly  light. 
Though  fitful  storm-cloud  madly  frown, 

And  flaming  lightnings  round  us  hiss, 
Its  cheering  beams  come  smiling  down, 

And  wake  the  soul  to  endless  bliss. 

And  when  Temptation's  tide  flows  near, 
And  Passion  lures  the  heart  to  sin, 

That  star's  soft  light,  like  olden  seer, 
Resounds  the  warning  cry  within. 


MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE.  89 

It  guards  the  heart  like  ivied  bower, 
Shielding  it  from  each  shade  of  wo  ; 

And  with  a  soft,  resistless  power, 
Directs  us  in  our  course  below  ! 

Oh  !  worship  well  that  star  above, 

That  brilliant  gleam  in  youth's  dark  path, 
'Tis  Heaven's  best  gift — a  Mother's  love, 

The  only  deathless  boon  it  hath ! 
Then  yield,  and  on  the  sacred  spell 

In  trusting  confidence  rely, 
And  when  the  blasts  of  anguish  swell — 

'Twill  guide  thee  by  its  glowing  eye. 


STANZAS. 


Like  sunset  gleams 

That  bathe  the  waking  night  in  golden  hue, 
Sweet  thoughts  of  thee,  beloved,  like  gentle  dew, 

Steal  o'er  my  dreams  ! 

Then  ask  me  not 

To  stifle  thought !  sweet  creature  of  the  brain  ! 
How  could  my  lonely  spirit  smile  again — 

Wert  tliou  forgot  ! 

I  might  forget — 

If,  from  the  selfish  world,  my  soul  could  leap 
To  its  dark  tomb  in  some  oblivious  deep — 

Having  tlice  yet ! 


MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

I  could  exclude 

Earth's  cold,  deceitful  image  from  my  breast, — 
Having  thy  worshipped  memory  to  make  blest 

My  solitude  ! 

But  as  the  beams 

Of  faithful  stars  cling  to  the  storm-swept  sky, 
Though  severed  now  by  fate,  my  soul  will  sigh 

For  thee  in  dreams  ! 

Then  ask  me  not 

To  crush  the  gem  which  gilds  life  with  its  light ! 
Love  clings  around  the  soul  with  holiest  might— 

When  once  begot ! 

Still  must  we  love  ! 

Though  lone  and  weary  be  the  world  to  each, 
Beloved  we  shall  be  one  !  fate  cannot  reach 

The  world  above  ! 

9 


WE  SMILE  AND  GAZE  AT  WOMAN'S 
CHARMS. 

We  smile  and  gaze  at  woman's  charms, 

When  youth  is  brightly  blooming, 
And  clasp  them  to  our  eager  arms, 

Enraptured  with  their  pluming. 
But  ah !  when  all  these  beauties  fade, 

With  sorrow's  sea  before, 
How  can  we  view  the  wreck  thus  made 

In  those  whom  we  adore  ! 

0  give  to  me  that  beauty  true, 

Deep  in  the  heart's  core  sleeping ; 
A  soul  of  love  to  turn  me  to, 

When  the  heart  is  sadly  weeping. 
Though  years  on  sable  pinions  wing 

Their  silent  flight  away, 
No  withering  blight,  save  death,  can  bring 

Such  beauty  to  decay  ! 


THOUGH  FOREVER  \\TE   HAVE   PARTED. 


" — Long  and  mournful  must  it  be, 

The  thought  that  we  no  more  may  meet." 

BYRON: 


Though  forever  we  have  parted, 

As  the  living  and  the  dead, 
All  my  fondest  hopes  departed, — 

Hopes  on  which  my  soul  hath  fed  ; 

Though  no  more  these  arms  embrace  thee, 
As  they  once  were  wont  to  do, — 

Though  another's  form  now  grace  thee, 
Breathing  its  fond  vows  to  you  ; 


94  MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

Though  another's  smile  now  bless  thee, 
Though  another's  heart  he  thine  ; 

Though  another's  love  caress  thee, 
And  no  more  thou  mayst  be  mine  : 

Wilt  thou  not,  when  silence,  stealing, 
Lulls  the  passion-fiend  within, 

Think  of  him  whose  every  feeling 
Would  from  thee  a  kindred  win  ? 

When  soft  twilight's  purple  flushes, 
Kiss  the  growing  shades  of  night, 
And  sad  thought  in  secret  gushes, 

Clouding  dreams  more  sweet  and  bright ; 

Then  with  mournful  spirit  dwelling 
On  the  hallowed  moments  fled, 

Save  one  sigh  for  him  whose  swelling 
Bosom  oft  for  thee  hath  bled ! 


STANZAS. 

Friends  of  my  youth  !  when  years  have  cast 

Their  griefs  and  cares  around  life's  way, 
Have  brought  the  future  to  the  past, 

And  darkened  hopes  now  wild  and  gay  ; 
When  Time's  chill  hand  has  scattered  round 

Its  mete  of  sorrow,  now  unknown, — 
And  buried  in  her  silent  mound, 

All  I  have  ever  called  my  own  ; 

When  Misery  builds  her  dreary  home, 
Perchance  within  my  breast  begun, 

And  I  am  left  alone  to  roam 

Neath  clouded  sky  and  darkened  sun ; 

Then  shall  sweet  visions  oft  review 
The  happy  moments  spent  with  thec, 

And  gentle  dreams  recall  anew 

These  hours — of  all  most  dear  to  me  ! 
9* 


HOW   LOVE   WE   TO    GAZE    ON   THE 

SCENES  OF  OUR  YOUTH. 

How  love  we  to  gaze  on  the  scenes  of  our  youth, 
Those  moments  "when  care  shed  no  gloom  o'er 

life's  way ; 
When  all  that  beamed  round  us  was  glowing  with 

truth, 

Undimrned  by  the  canker  of  future  decay  ! 
The  spots  we  have  loved  and  the  haunts  we  have 

cherished, 
The  stream  o'er  whose  ripple  we  sailed  our  small 

bark, 
Like  dreams  of  delight — they  have  all   of  them 

perished, 

And  scenes  which  were  dearest  are  rayle-ss  and 
dark. 


MOMENTS  OF   SOLITUDE.  97 

The  lawn  where  our  play  has  so  frequently  led  us, 

No  longer  is  blooming  in  beauty  and  grace  ; 
And  the  hand  which  in  infancy  tenderly  fed  us, 
Has  made  that  old  spot  now  its  cold   charnel- 

place  ! 

True,  spring-time  is  with  us,  and  roses  are  beaming 
Like  bright  eyes  at  evening,  through  lashes  of 

dew ; 

But  the  bush  that  to  me  with  most  beauty  was  teem 
ing, 

Like  the  hour  of  its  birth,  is  now  lost  to  the  view. 
0  give,  give  me  back  but  life's  earliest  morning, 

I  ask  not  a  joy  that  it  does  not  contain ; 
Give  me  back  the  gay  hopes   its   dear   pathway 

adorning, 
And  fortune  may  frown  as  she  please,  all  in  vain! 


I  SIGH,  AND  THINK  OF  THEE,  LADY. 

When  Morn  on  rosy  pinion  hies, 
To  bathe  in  crimson  hue  the  skies, — 
Though  bright  and  beauteous  to  mine  eyes — 
I  sigh,  and  think  of  thee,  Lady ! 

"When  Noon  with  golden  radiance  beams, 
And  sparkling  nature  round  us  gleams, 
To  soothe  life  with  its  fairy  dreams, 

I  sigh,  and  think  of  thee,  Lady  ! 

When  spangled  Eve  with  silver  glows, 
And  wraps  the  world  in  calm  repose, — 
Though  soft  its  purple  curtain  close — 

I  sigh,  and  think  of  thee,  Lady  ! 


MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE.  99 

When  nightly  shadows  mantle  earth, 
When  hushed  the  noisome  song  of  mirth, 
And  silent  joys  receive  their  birth, — 

I  sigh  and  think  of  thee,  Lady  ! 

Ah,  life  is  now  a  troubled  thought, 
A  dream  with  anguish  Avildly  fraught, — 
A  woe  which  faithful  love  hath  sought 
By  fondly  seeking  thee,  Lady. 

Yes  !  though  thy  heart  ne'er  know  the  thrill 
Of  kindred  passion  to  mine,  still 
Love  may  not  alter  as  we  will — 

And  I  can  love  but  thee,  Lady  ! 

And  though  thy  gentle  hand  may  now 
Press  tenderly  anotJier's  brow, 
0  hear  my  last — my  holy  vow — 

I  live  for  thee,  alone,  Lady ! 

Then  save,  ah  !  save  one  thought  for  me, 
When  sadness  steals  o'er  life's  bright  sea  ; 
'Tis  all  my  soul  dare  ask  of  thee — 

Thou  wilt  not  say  it  nay,  Lady  ? 


THE  SUN  OF  JOY  UPON  THY  BROW. 


THE  sun  of  joy  upon  thy  brow  sends  forth  its 
golden  beam, 

And  Youth  and  Beauty  crown  thce  now,  like  angels 
in  a  dream ; 

No  doubt,  with  dark,  foreboding  ill,  thy  spirit  lives 
to  gloom, 

Sweet  thoughts  and  hallowed  memories  within  thy 
bosom  bloom ! 

The  Future,  like  the  faded  Past,  to  thy  dark,  lus 
trous  eyes, 

Unfolds,  e'en  as  that  Past  has  done,  an  earth-born 
Paradise ; 


MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE.  101 

Unknown  to  sorrow's  dismal  touch,  a  stranger  to 

its  care, 
Life's  day  (0  might  it  e'er  he  such  !)  to  thec  is 

bright  and  fair  ! 

But  maiden,  soon  will  clouds  descend,  too  soon  will 

ring  the  knell 
Which  summons  wrinkles  to  the  brow  and  crushes 

beauty's  spell; 
And  as  the  rose  th&l  fairest  blooms  the  fleetest  will 

decay, 
The  joyful  wreath   that  crowns    thee,  now,  must 

soonest  fade  away  ! 
Too  soon  will  ice  thy  breast  of  fire,  too  soon  grow 

lone  and  chill 
The   happy   hopes  which   wildly  now  within   thy 

bosom  thrill ! 

Oh,  then  will  one  impassioned  heart  which  kneels 

not  at  thy  shrine, 
Yield  up  its  wealth  of  love  to  thee,  and  crave  one 

thought  of  thine  ; 


102  MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

One  look,  one  smile,  one  gentle  word,  to  light  his 

deadened  breast, 
One   pressure  of  thy  snowy  hand,  to  make  that 

bosom  blest  ! 
Then  one  devoted  heart  shall  cling,  like  ivy  to  the 

pile, 
And,  like  its  faithful  tendrils,  worship  thy  deserted 

smile, 
Will  seek  a  home  near  thy  despair — its  name  with 

thine  enrol, 
And  soothe  thee  as  sweet  midnight   dreams   can 

soothe  the  sinking  soul ! 


HAIL  BEAUTIFUL  SPRING. 


"  Spring  with  its  rose-btids  ! — Spring, 
The  gladdest  time  in  the  capricious  year, 
AVith  its  green  foliage,  and  its  sunlight  clear." 

AY'.  II.  BURLEV. 


Hail  beautiful  Spring  !  with  joy  do  I  greet  thee, 
Bedecked  in  thy  mantle  of  purple  and  green  ; 

The  heart  in  its  rapture  leaps  forward  to  meet  thee, 
And  sportively  revel  amid  thy  soft  sheen  ! 

Awakens  within  us  thy  sweetness  alluring, 

Sad  thoughts  of  affection  now  eager  and  true ; 

Like  thee,  at  their  birth,  they  seem  bright  and 
enduring, 

But  with  thee  decaying  as  fast  as  they  grew. 
10 


104  MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

Full  soon  shall  thy  buds  lie  all  scattered  and  dying, 
Their  spirits  departed,  their  fond  beauty  dead ; 

And  the  cold  blasts  of  winter  hoar  over  thee  sighing, 
"VVaft  out  the  sweet  odours  thy  zephyrs  now  shed. 

Why,  why,  then,  thy  glittering  fountains  of  plea 
sure, 

Exhaling  their  fragrance  upon  the  mild  air, 
If  not  to  instruct  us  in  life  we  must  treasure 

Its  sources  of  comfort  while  yet  they  are  fair  ? 
0  let  curtained  Future  be  black  to  our  viewing, 

With  dark,  evil  hours  of  grieving  and  tears  ; 
With  Present  enjoyment  why  think  of  storm  brew 
ing, 

Or  seek  to  torment  us  with  presaging  fears  ? 


MUSIC,  A  SONNET. 

Sweet  strains  that  sweep  and  sweeping  gently  swell, 

'Till  ye  intoxicate  the  bursting  soul, 
What  is  it  wakes  thy  soft  mysterious  spell 

As  o'er  the  heart  thy  gentle  numbers  roll  ! 
The  brain  floats  on  thy  softly  waving  tone, 

As  faintly  on  the  list'ning  air  it  creeps ; 
While  echoing  fondness  answers  to  thine  own, 

And  kindred  sadness  through  the  bosom  sweeps. 
Springs  up  a  new  existence !  like  the  life 

Of  some  eternal  spirit  in  the  breast, 
Breathing  a  joyful  calmness  o'er  its  strife — 

Soothing  its  sorrows  to  a  tranquil  rest ; 
'Till  as  ye  fade,  in  slow,  expiring  swell, 

The  heart  is  melted  neath  thy  thrilling  spell  ! 


SONNET  TO 

As  some  bright  beam  of  glory  softly  played 

The  gentle  beaming  of  those  hazel  eyes, 
When  first  on  me  they  shone ;  sweet,  timid  maid, 

And  stirred  within  my  breast  a  world  of  sighs  ! 
Thy  heaving  bosom  to  mine  own  is  pressed, 

Though  time  has  withered  since  the  hour  we  met, 
Tliy  soul's  best  love  mine  own  has  fondly  blessed, 

And  we  are  one  in  kindred  feeling  yet ! 
Thy  brilliant  beauty,  like  some  heavenly  light, 

Still  dearer  grows  as  years  are  winged  away ; 
Thine  eyes'  soft  beams  to  me  are  pure  and  bright, 

And  welcome,  as  the  unforgotten  day 
When  first,  in  silent  rapture,  they  confest 
The  spell  which  slept  within  thy  faithful  breast ! 


PAST   MEMORIES. 


"There's  not  a  joy  the  world  can  give  like  that  it  takes  away.'' 

BYRON. 


When  drinking  the  nectar  of  bliss  so  beguiling, 

When  beauty  like  magic  enlightens  each  cloud, 
We  often  forget,  'mid  the  joy  round  us  smiling, 

The  loved  who  have  left  us  to  mould  in  the  shroud. 
But  each  thrill  of  enjoyment  within  the  pulse  swell 
ing, 

Awakens  its  echoes  of  sadness  and  pain ; 
And  we  turn  to  the  past,  o'er  each  fond  moment 
dwelling, 

And  weep  that  its  glory  can  come  not  again  ! 
10* 


108  MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

Though  Hope  shed  her  ray  from  the  sky  that  is 

o'er  us, 
And  friendship's  sweet  smile  not  a  care  may 

o'ercast, 
We  leave  the  dim  shadows  of  pleasure  before  us, 

As  memory  recalls  us  the  joys  that  are  past. 
The  gay  laugh  of  youth  which  we  once  loved  to  hear, 

Now  wakes  no  reply  save  a  feeling  of  gloom, 
And  the  eye  of  affection  is  dimmed  by  a  tear, 
As  thought  points  it  back  to  the  friend  in  the 

tomb  ! 

No,  the  world  has  no  charm  its  gay  pathway  adorn 
ing) 

Like  those  we  have  sadly  seen  fading  away  ; 
And  though  still  it  may  gleam  with  the  brightness 

of  morning, 
The  joy  we  have  lost  it  can  never  repay  ! 


WHEREFORE    CALL'ST    THOU    MEMORY 
FOND. 


Oh  !  wherefore  call'st  thou  memory  fond, 

Which  decks  the  past  in  wild  delight, 
And  gilds  it  with  a  magic  wand, 

To  steep  the  present  hours  in  night ; 
Ah,  wherefore  call'st  thou  memory  fond, 

Which  wakes  the  voice  of  friendships  dead, 
Which  breathes  anew  that  spirit  bond — 

To  prove  it's  weeped-for  pleasures  dead  ! 
Why  call  that  fond  which  can  but  live 

To  taunt  the  soul  with  vain  regrets ; 
Which  pictures  joys  it  cannot  give, 

Though  burning  tears  it  oft  begets  ! 


110  MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

Ah,  if  the  heart  has  ever  knelt 

A  happy  captive  at  love's  shrine, — 

Has  ever  that  wild  passion  felt, 

"Which  thrills  it  with  a  power  divine : 

How  can  it  wish  to  wander  o'er 

Those  hours  so  rife  with  scenes  of  bliss, 
When  all  that  blest  them  is  no  more, 

And  they  may  only  sadden  this  ? 
For  who  can  dwell  without  a  tear, 

Upon  the  rosy  hours  gone  by, 
With  worshipped  friends  than  life  more  dear,- 

And  view  their  death  without  a  sigh  ? 
Ay  !  though  a  green  oasic  spot 

May  bloom  amid  the  sterile  plain, 
Its  very  beauty  darks  the  blot, 

Which  gives  the  present  hour  its  pain  ! 


I  LOVE  THEE,  0  I  LOVE  THEE. 


I  love  thee,  oh  !  I  love  thee  ! 

By  the  heaven  that's  bright  above  me, 

Thine  heart-graven  image  I  cannot  forget  ! 
Then  turn  not  away,  dearest, 
Though  all  else  decay,  dearest, 

Love  me,  0  love  me,  impassion'dly  yet ! 

As  sunlight  to  flowers, 

In  life's  fleeting  hours, 
So  is  thy  blest  love  to  my  deep,  yearning  soul  ; 

And  when  by  thy  side, 

In  the  young  even-tide, 
A  whirlwind  of  bliss  over  life  seems  to  roll ! 


112  MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

In  the  long,  sleepless  night, 

When  the  welkin  is  bright, 
I  see  thy  kind  smile  in  the  soft,  formless  air ; 

And  then  these  eyes  gaze, 

Till  Morn's  growing  haze 
Dispels  the  sweet  vision — to  prove  thee  not  there. 

Oh  !  then  with  hollow  groan, 

My  spirit  seems  to  moan, 
For  one  more  hour  of  such  delightful  pain ; 

Until  the  dying  day 

Has  gently  passed  away, — 
And  then  thy  spirit  steals  to  mine  again  ! 

But  well,  too  well  I  know 

Thy  being,  here  below, 
Can  ne'er  to  mine  a  kindred  being  be, — 

Yet  vain,  ah  !  torture  vain — 

This  striving  to  restrain 
The  fervent  love  which  wakes  my  heart  to  thee  ! 


IMPROMPTU  LINES  TO  A  FRIEND. 


As  from  the  thousand  stars  which  smile 
O'er  ocean's  wildly  surging  hreast, 

The  mariner  seeks  but  one,  the  while, 
To  guide  his  weary  bark  to  rest  : 


So  I,  from  out  the  friends  most  near, 

In  after  years  shall  turn  to  thee ; 
As  one  whose  friendship  was  more  dear 
Than  all  the  selfish  world's  to  me  ! 


WHEN  MUSIC  FLOATS  THROUGH 
MARBLED  HALLS. 


When  music  floats  through  marbled  halls, 

Breathing  its  gentle  strains  divine, 
Where  sapphires  light  the  dazzling  walls, 

And  gems  of  sparkling  splendor  shine ; 
When  mirth  and  laughter  thrill  the  soul, 

And  loved  ones  round  thee  fondly  press, - 
I  would  not  o'er  that  hour  should  roll 

One  pang  to  make  its  pleasure  less  ! 

I  could  not  wish  that  tJtou  shouklst  know 
These  rending  hopes — this  tearless  grief- 

These  bitter  hours  of  silent  woe — 
For  which  the  world  has  no  relief ! 


MOMENTS  OP   SOLITUDE.  115 

But  oh,  when  Twilight,  like  a  dream, 
Steals  softly  down  on  purple  wings  ; 

When  stars  peep  forth  with  silver  beam, 
And  silence  round  her  mantle  flings ; 

When  every  echoing  note  is  hushed, 

And  evening  sinks  on  hill  and  dell, 
When  Memory's  brow  grows  warm  and  flushed, 

And  Nature  weaves  her  mystic  spell ; 
Breathe,  breathe  thy  kindly  prayer  for  one, 

Who  loved  thee  as  he  ne'er  could  tell ; 
Who  turned  to  thee,  like  flower  to  sun, — 

Whose  fault  was  worshiping  too  well ! 


11 


SWEET  MAID  OF  LOCHNARE. 


:  That  merry  heart,  that  cannot  lie 
Within  its  warm  nest  quietly. 
But  ever,  from  the  full  dark  eye, 
Is  looking  kindly  night  and  morn." 

WILLIS. 


0  tell  me  not  of  the  dark-eyed  maid 

Who  dwells  in  the  warmth  of  a  southern  clime  ! 
Who  tunes  her  guitar  'neath  the  myrtle's  shade, 

Like  a  fairy-queen  in  the  summer-time  ! 
Sweet  maid  of  Lochnare !  Sweet  maid  of  Lochnare  ! 

What  eye  upon  earth  can  compare,  love,  with 

thine  ? 

What  bosom  so  true, — ah,  what  heart  would  not 
share 

Its  term  of  existence  with  one  so  divine  ? 


MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE.  117 

Then  tell  me  not  of  the  high-born  dame 

"\Vlio  roams  through  a  palace  of  glittering  gold ; 
Her  beauty  and  loveliness  lie  in  the  name, 

And  her  heart  is  as  false  as  her  bosom  is  cold. 
Sweet  maid  of  Lochnare !  Sweet  maid  of  Loclmare 

Be  thou  the  fond  idol  I  worship  alone ; 
For  show  me  the  maiden  on  earth  can  compare 

Her  loveliness,  beauty  or  truth  with  thine  own  ! 


LINES  TO 


When  youth's  first  warm,  impassioned  dream, 
Has  known  its  fleet  and  chill  decay  ; 

When  we  have  seen  life's  only  beam 
In  silent  sadness  fade  away  : 

Friendship  alone  can  soothe  the  sorrow 
Which  feeds  upon  the  aching  heart, 

And  from  Tier  cheering  smile  we  borrow 
The  charm  to  bid  our  gloom  depart. 

Then  Lady,  should  this  plaintive  lay 
Awake  from  thee  one  kindly  thought, 

To  shed  a  lustre  on  life's  way — 

With  many  a  gloomy  moment  fraught, 


MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE.  119 

I'll  know  that  there  is  one  whose  heart 
With  Friendship's  vestal  flame  burns  high, 

To  glad  the  clouds  that  wildly  dart 
In  darkness  o'er  the  Future's  sky. 

Ah,  then  full  many  a  joy  shall  thrill, 
And  in  this  sorrowing  bosom  blend, 

As  faithful  Memory  paints  thee  still — 
The  one  I'm  proud  to  call  a  friend. 


11* 


IT  IS  PAST. 

"  No — pleasures,  hopes,  affections  gone 
The  wretch  may  bear  and  yet  live  on, 
Like  things  within  the  cold  rock  found, 
Alive,  when  all's  congealed  around. 
But  there's  a  blank  repose  in  this, 
A  calm  stagnation  that  were  bliss, 
To  the  keen,  burning,  harrowing  pain, 
Now  felt  through  all  that  breast  and  brain." 

MOOUE. 

It  is  past !     It  is  past !  and  the  spirit  awak'ing, 
Sinks  back  from  its  vision — too  happy  to  last ; 
The  heart  that  adored  thee  is  lonely  and  breaking, 
The  hopes  that  were   brightest  thy  pride   has 

o'ercast  ! 

With  feelings  of  anguish  I  stand  on  the  spot, 
Where  our  vows  we  first  plighted,  our  love  we 

exchanged ; 
Like  the  moment  we  breathed  them  those  vows  are 

forgot, 
And  we  who  were  warmest  are  cold  and  estranged. 


MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE.  121 

No    tear    dims    thine    eye    when    fond    memories 

awaken, 

No  sigh  for  the  moments  of  bliss  that  are  gone  ; 
Yet  the  heart  that  adored  thee  thou'st  coldly  for 
saken, 

And  left  it  to  wither  in  sorrow  alone ! 
The  chill  voice  of  envy  has  served  thee  to  sever, 
The  bond  which,  though  faithless,  thou  blushed 

not  to  own, 

And  with  it  this  besom  hath  parted  forever, 
With  the  fleet  spell  of  gladness  its  spirit  hath 
known. 


Farewell !    may   thy   life   be   as   bright    and   un 
clouded, 
As   mine   thou   hast   darkened  with  remed'less 

woe ; 
May  thine  be  brilliant  as  mine  is  shrouded, 

And   Angels  watch   o'er   thee   and   keep   thee 
below ! 


122  MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

The  heart  thou  hast  wounded  now  beats  as  before, 

Though  happy  as  then  it  can  ne'er  be  again  ; 
The  hopes  which  once  warmed  it  can  warm  it  no 

more — 

Where  it  once  throbbed  with  pleasure,  it   now 
throbs  with  pain  ! 


WHY  WAKE  THE  LYRE  TO  SING  THY 
CHARMS  ? 

Why  wake  the  lyre  to  sing  thy  charms, 

Or  eulogize  thy  mellow  voice — 
When  they  are  for  another's  arms, 

And  wait  a  happier  being's  choice  ? 
That  love  which  from  the  silent  eye 

With  rapture  fires  the  sternest  frame, 
Speaks  more  in  one,  lone,  trembling  sigh, 

Than  volumes  of  cold  words  can  name  ! 

And  such,  dear  friend,  the  spell  /feel, — 

The  calm  but  lasting  tie  of  life  ; 
No  less  when  Joy  her  form  reveal, 

Or  darkened  by  contentious  strife. 
And,  though  I  nurture  not  the  hope 

Of  kindred  love  for  one  another, 
As  to  a  sister's  breast  I'll  ope 

The  warmest  friendship  of  a  brother. 


THY  THIN  LIP  TREMBLED. 


"Thy  voice — its  low,  soft,  fervent,  farewell  tone 
Thrilled  through  the  tempest  of  the  parting  strife." 

HEMAXS. 


Thy  thin  lip  trembled  with  thy  deep  devotion, 
When  last  we  severed,  torn  by  fate  apart ; 

Thy  voice  was  burdened  by  the  wild  emotion, — 
I  knew  not  then  was  warring  in  thy  heart ! 

Thine  eye  was  moistened  by  the  kindly  feeling, 
Which  pride  so  fiercely,  vainly  strove  to  hide ; 

And  oft  thy  look  of  agony  conies  stealing, 

Though  now  a  joyless  wanderer  from  thy  side. 

Xo  parting  word,  no  vow  of  love  was  spoken, 
To  tell  the  anguish  of  the  bursting  heart ; 

We  only  felt  the  last  fond  link  was  broken, 
We  only  knew  we  must  forever  part. 


POOR  HEART  BE  STILL. 


Poor  heart  be  still,  and  cease  to  long 
For  rosy  joys  thou  ne'er  canst  taste, 

Xor  seek  amid  life's  giddy  throng, 

Earth's  flowers  to  deck  thy  wreck-strewn  waste. 

Alas,  poor  heart,  too  well  I  know 

The  hitter  mockeries  which  spring, 
And  from  the  selfish  fountains  flow, 

Where  Pleasure  dips  her  envious  wing ! 

There's  not  a  touch  of  softest  bliss 
Around  the  heart  in  rapture  weaves, 

But  bears  a  poison  in  its  kiss, 

To  blight  the  fleeting  joy  it  gives  ! 


FILL    UP,  WE'LL  DROWN   AT   LEAST  TO 
NIGHT. 

Fill  up,  we'll  drown,  at  least  to  night, 

Each  gloomy  thought  of  care  and  sorrow  ; 
For  once  our  hearts  shall  all  be  light, 

Whate'er  awaits  them  on  the  morrow. 
Whatever  pangs  the  tortured  soul 

May  sadly,  darkly  cluster  round  it, 
We'll  drown  them  in  the  blushing  bowl, 

And  break  to  night  the  spell  that's  bound  it. 

Ay,  fill  again  the  crimson  glass, 

Let  love  grow  cold  or  friendship  sever, 
We'll  drain  the  goblet  as  it  pass, 

And  dream  to  night  they  live  forever. 
'Tis  well  to  still  the  aching  heart, 

In  moments  thus  so  free  from  sorrow, 
So  fill,  fill  high  until  we  part, 

Whate'er  awaits  us  in  the  morrow. 


LIFE  AND  THE  ROSE. 


In  the  Morning's  dawning  beam, 
Wakes  a  young  Rose  from  its  dream  ; 
Beauty  smiles  upon  its  cheek, 
Painting  joys  she  cannot  speak  ; 
"While  the  Sun-god's  vestal  ray 
Sparkles  round  it  in  his  way. 

But  the  noon-time's  burning  glow 
Withers  every  shrub  below, 
And  that  Rose  no  longer  bright , 
Shrinks  in  terror  from  the  light ; 
'Till  the  stem  on  which  it  grew 

Droops  beneath  its  fading  hue. 
12 


128  MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

Then  to  quench  its  eager  thirst, 
Gentle  dews  around  it  burst, 
Kiss  the  pale  leaves  o'er  and  o'er, 
'Till  they  gaily  smile  once  more ; 
And  the  Night,  like  breath  of  spring, 
Greets  it  with  a  peaceful  wring. 

Like  that  Rose,  when  young  and  gay, 
Pleasures  sparkle  on  our  way  ; 
Joy  attends  us  with  his  beam, 
Hope  illumines  every  dream, 
'Till  the  noon  of  life,  less  fair, 
Dawns  upon  us  with  its  care. 

Then  how  sweet,  when  grief  is  near, 
Falls  the  sympathising  tear  ! 
Steals  like  dew  to  withered  flower, 
In  life's  sad  and  gloomy  hour  ! 
How  we  turn,  like  flower  to  dew, 
Love  and  friendship  then  to  you  ! 


AND   AM   I    THEN   FORGOTTEN? 


"And  am  I  then  forgot,  forgot?" 

CAMPBELL. 


And  am  I  then  forgotten  ?  does  the  heart 
Which  erst  at  parting  trembled  to  mine  own, 

No  longer  to  the  mournful  image  start, 

And  sigh  for  moments,  but  too  quickly  flown  ? 

Does  thy  fair  bosom,  like  the  lilied  flower, 
No  longer  waste  its  passing  thoughts  on  me  ? 

And  hast  thou,  then,  forgot  the  gentle  hour 

Thou  once  would'st  have  none  other  share  with 
thee  ? 


1-30  MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

No  !  memories  of  the  hallowed  moments  gone, 
Like  blasting  serpents  round  thy  heart  must  move; 

And  thou  must  ever  feel,  though  living  on, 
Like  me  the  agony  of  hopeless  love. 

And  when  the  name  of  him,  whom  tearless  fate 
So  sadly  from  thy  trusting  bosom  tore, 

Is  breathed, — and  thou  like  him  art  desolate, 
And  weep  for  joys  we  each  may  feel  no  more ; 

Ah  well  I  know  thy  deep,  confiding  soul, 

Though  severed  now  on  earth  no  more  to  meet, 

Though  it  may  all  its  misery  control, 

Can  ne'er  forget — save  when  it  cease  to  beat ! 


LOVE,  HOPE,  AND  FEAR. 


Love  lay  like  an  angel  bright, 
In  the  evening's  jewelled  light, 
Breathing  many  a  trembling  sigh, 
As  the  night-winds  murmured  by. 

Fear,  like  cunning  serpent,  sprang 
To  pierce  the  cherub  with  his  fang 
From  the  fury  in  his  eye, 

Love  sank  back  with  stifled  cry. 
12" 


132  MOMENTS   OF   SOLITUDE. 

But  before  the  jealous  dart 
Sank,  unpitying,  to  iris  heart, 
Hope,  a  Peri  from  the  sky, 
Crushed  the  fiend  and  bade  him  die  ; 
Kissed  the  pallid  brow  of  Love, 
And  bore  him  to  the  world  above. 

Like  young  Love  this  faithful  breast 
Turns  to  thee,  its  Hope,  for  rest  ;— 
Wilt  thou  not  Hope's  welcome  give, 
Crush  its  doubt  and  bid  it  live  ? 


WHAT  ARE  LIFE'S  JOYS. 

What  are  life's  joys 

That  we  most  treasure 
Vanishing  toys — 

Moments  of  pleasure  ! — 
Moments  of  laughter 

Through  sorrowing  years, 
"Woe  striding  after 

In  silence  and  tears  ! 

Day  dreams  of  promise 

Glimmering  near ; 
Slow  fading  from  us — 

Whenever  most  dear  ! 
Taunt  me  no  longer 

With  the  bright  bubbles  ; 
Beeper  and  stronger 

Life's  many  troubles. 


CHECK  NOT,  CHECK  NOT,  THAT 
TEARLY  TEAR. 

Check  not,  check  not  that  pearly  tear, 

Which  glistens  on  thy  pensive  cheek ; 
Sweet  emblem  of  a  heart  sincere — 

It  speaks  what  nothing  else  could  speak  ! 
Then  let  it  flow,  nor  blush  to  hide 

What  flattered  beauty  seldom  feels  ; 
And  I  will  dream,  thus  at  thy  side, 

For  me  its  lonely  current  steals. 

Yes  !  Though  amid  the  gay  and  proud, 

The  tutored  smile  of  worldly  pride 
Be  coined  for  those  who  round  thee  crowd, 

And  all  thy  gentler  feelings  hide  : 
The  silent  tears  which  trembling  start, 

Like  sparkling  drops  of  purest  dew, 
Shall  prove  thce  whit  I  know  thou  art — 

As  lovely  as  thy  soul  is  true  ! 


SUNSET. 

Yon  flaming  orb,  like  infant  to  its  rest, 

Sinks  trembling  clown  amid  the  crimsoned  liue 
Of  blushing  clouds,  -which  kiss  the  azure  breast 

Of  skies  that  revel  in  their  boundless  blue. 
Bright  as  the  last,  quick  spark  of  ling'ring  life, 

The  iris  beam  now  quivers  in  the  sky ; 
Breathing  the  last  breath  of  a  glorious  strife, 

Ere  it  sink  back  in  nothingness  to  die. 

Like  roseate  down  upon  the  ether  there, 

Floats  many  a   soft  and  crown-like,  burnished 
cloud ; 

As  Sol,  departing,  shakes  his  golden  hair, 
And  scatters  glory  through  the  airy  crowd. 


136  MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

Tipped  with  his  radiant  beams,  the  waving  trees, 
Like  emeralds  floating  in  a  golden  lake, 

Spread  out  their  leaves  upon  the  evening  breeze, 
To  catch  the  glow  encircling  hill  and  brake. 

Sunset !  I  love  thee  !  with  thy  purple  shade, 

Coming  to  shed   a  kindred  glory  through  the 

soul ! 
And  as  thy  varied  tints  in  darkness  fade, 

Till  clouds,  like  banners,  o'er  thy  last  rays  roll ; 
Bright  are  the  thoughts,  which,  like  thine  own  pale 
beams, 

Steal  silently  and  fondly  to  the  heart ; 
Coming  with  thee,  like  softly-fleeting  dreams, — 

Then  with  thy  beauty  tremblingly  depart ! 


EXTRACTS  FROM  A  POEM  TITLED 
SPIRIT  OF  LOVE. 

I. 

Why  do  we  live  ?  the  question  echoing  rings 
Through  cottages  of  serfs  and  palaces  of  kings; 
Oh  !  is  it  not  for  her  whom  every  tie  endears 
As  the  soul's  guardian  through  enduring  years? 

O    v 

Her  angel  smile  veils  gloom  however  drear. 
Her  nod  the  failing  spirit  renders  brave  ; 

Her  voice  the  blackest  misery  can  cheer, 
And  soothe  the  clouded  pathway  to  the  grave  ! 

Lo,  pallid  victim  of  undying  toil, 
Through  what  dull  scenes  of  penury  thou'st  gone  ! 

Ilow'st  hovered  near  the  pall  of  grief  to  foil 
Each  tint  of  sunshine  ere  it  scarce  was  born  ! 


138  MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE. 

Still,  still  for  thee  an  ever-winning  smile, 
To  bless  thy  sadder  moments  love  hath  given  ;- 

Make  bitter  agony  more  sweet  the  while, 
And  picture  Pain  a  harbinger  of  Heaven  ! 


II. 


Sweet,  sweet  to  you  who  see  the  smile 
Of  Beauty  cheer  you  on  through  life ; 

Whose  fond  affection  may  beguile 

The  world's  harsh  ills  and  bitter  strife, 
And  soothe  the  aching  heart : 

But  woe,  oh,  tearless  woe  to  whom 

That  smile  hath  marbled  'neath  the  sod  ; 

Who've  seen  that  form  fade  in  the  tomb, 
And,  crushed  to  earth  beneath  fate's  rod, 
Have  found  their  fondest  hopes  depart ! 

Tune  not  the  harp  to  lays  of  mirth, 

For  those  from  whom  love's  joys  have  sped  ; 


MOMENTS    OF    SOLITUDE.  10' 

Ne'er  more  the  spirit  smiles  on  earth, 
When  once  its  golden  dreams  have  fled  ! 

Yet  ye  whose  nighted  souls  of  lead, 
His  heavenly  bliss  have  never  known, 

To  whose  eternal  carol  dead, 

Life's  agony  has  deeper  grown  ; — 

Go  find  a  friend,  and,  giving  heart  for  heart. 

In  bonds  of  sympathy  live  fondly  on  ; 

0  then  shall  all  thine  anxious  griefs  depart, 

And  sunshine  blend  thy  beings  into  one  ! 


III. 

When  thrills  the  music  of  Love's  golden  lyre, 
What  bursting  heart  his  power  will  dare  deny  ? 

What  soul  can  feel,  unwarmed,  his  glowing  fire, 
Or  lose  remembrance  of  his  burning  sigh  ? 

Cold,  cold  that  bosom  where  the  star  of  love 

Its  genial  warmth  hath  never,  soft'ning,  shed  ; 

Like  life-wrecks  o'er  earth's  desert-beach  they  move— 

Ah,  happier  were  they  numbered  with  the  dead 
13 


140  MOMENTS    OF   SOLITUDE. 

The  shadowy  mists  above  us  darkly  grouping, 
Wreathe  deep  in  gloom  the  passage  of  its  crest ; 

But  shows  its  melting  form  fierce  troubles  drooping, 
And  sorrow  gliding  down  to  endless  rest. 


IV. 


Ah,  sweet  to  dream  of  love  when  life 

Glows  with  the  sunshine  of  its  beam  ; 
When  with  its  joys  our  homes  are  rife, 

And  with  its  rays  our  pathways  gleam ; 
When  the  fond  kiss  of  welcome  leaps 

Forth  from  the  lips  of  those  most  dear, 
And  in  the  heart  serenely  sleeps 

The  thought  that  kindred  love  is  near  ! 
But  rob  mankind  of  love  !  tell  each  lone  soul 

No  more  the  cords  of  sympathy  must  twine, - 
Tell  mutual  hearts  to  doff  its  sweet  control, 

To  yield  to  death  life's  fairest,  greenest  vine: 
And  in  the  breast  is  left  an  aching  void, 

A  restless  longing  for  we  know  not  what ; 
A  seeking  after  something  ne'er  enjoyed, 


MOMENTS    OP   SOLITUDE.  141 


A  burning  wish  for  that  which  earth  has  not- 
With  friendship  faded,  or  with  love  forgot  ! 


V. 


And  does  affection  fade,  like  the  young  leaf 
Of  blooming  summer,  when  the  autumn-thief 
Draws  chilling  near  ?  Does  true  affection  die 
When  shrieks  the  sweeping  storm  across  life's  sky  ? 

Go  bid  old  ocean  in  his  wild, 

Untutored  passion  to  grow  mild  ! 

Go  gaze  upon  the  golden  sun, 

And  bid  his  lamp  grow  dark  and  dun  ; 

Or,  with  a  tear,  resolve  the  earth 

To  chaos  as  it  was  at  birth  ! — 

0,  sooner  far,  dare  all  than  strive 

To  blot  affection  from  the  breast ! 

'Twere  easier,  with  a  look,  to  drive 

The  rock-bound  tower  from  its  rest ! 


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UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILIT 


A     000  677  037     4 


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